Dark Vengeance of the Ultimate Weapon (Chapter 4)

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

All right. We shall try this story one last time... I've tried this a few times, but the version we have here now is the one I like best.

Please keep in mind that I have not bought anything Pokemon wise since about the time Pokemon Crystal came out. I don't know about any of the Pokemon featured in the GBA games and related, so they will not be included here, as well as attacks or other game features.

Right now I have 6 chapters written, and am working on number 7. I don't know how long this will end up being, but I estimate less than 15 chapters. I'll post two in a row now, because they are both somewhat short.

Oh... almost forgot. It's been a while since I've been back, so the majority of people won't know me. Obviously as my name says, I am SuperSonicMewtwo. Most often today I'm found as NVWC2006. I was and still am to some extent a Pokemon fan (why else would I write a fanfic about it?) and Mewtwo is my favorite Pokemon. Always has been, always will. RPG participation as well as ideas from friends are what shaped the plotline I now have for this story, which I hope you enjoy reading. If not, that's all right.

Please reply if you've read this story and like it, and you want more chapters posted. Also, constructive criticism isn't just allowed, I ask for it :biggrin:. So, happy reading!

Chapter 1, The Escape

“It will happen again. We have missed the signs until now. It’ll happen today, and we currently don’t have the weaponry to stop him.”

“You may have been right every time so far, but for today I think I’ll do things my way.”

“Yes, sir.”

A TV screen flickered to life. On the opposing side of the room, two men watched intently. One was sitting at a desk, a smug look forming across his face. The other stood next to the desk at attention, watching the screen more seriously. The only light in the room came from the television built into the wall on the far end of the room, leaving only half of each man’s face visible; the rest of their bodies were cast in shadows.

The screen depicted a teenage boy sitting on the ground in a fetal position, his head resting upon his knees. His long, uncut brown hair hung in his face, and his torn clothes clung to his body. Where there should have been eyes were two slits of blue light, covered only by the boys hair and the broken glasses that hung from his ears and nose.

“He’s powering up. Due to your on strength, you cannot see it, but he is raising his power.” The man who was standing stated. He raised his left arm in front of face to look at it. “At this point, even I will be unable to stop him.” The man suddenly whipped his arm down to his side, and stood up straight. “I request an upgrade for the weapon I have been given, sir.” The man at the desk glanced at the other, obviously his inferior, raising an eyebrow.

“Stronger or weaker, I myself can only understand such things to an extent. I can see power only when it is demonstrated. Which is why I’m not letting the Umbreon take over, as I told you earlier today. I believe you when you say that they are stronger, but I want to test his power against military strength.”

“Yes, sir.”

“At ease, Chris. As much as I enjoy having control over people, all the ‘sirs’ can get a bit annoying.”

“Of course, Giovanni. There, now! He’s starting.” The standing man, Chris, looked back at the television screen, as amusement seemed to fill his eyes. The boy had begun to clench his fists until his knuckles turned white. The objects around him began to vibrate, some falling to the ground. The man at the desk, Giovanni, reached over his desk to a phone, and turned on the intercom.

“I want every grunt we have ready. Every weapon we have aimed. We are on high alert, I do not want that boy to escape.”

“Yes sir!” a voice responded from the phone. Giovanni turned the intercom off and flipped a switch on the side of the desk. The top of the desk began to fold inward, and was soon replaced by a large control panel. As the desk changed, more TV screens rose into the room from the floor. The light soon made Giovanni and Chris visible. Giovanni was a middle aged man, wearing a bright orange suit. His dark brown hair had been slicked around his head to hide what little baldness had begun to take place. Chris, however, was donned in a black uniform with a red R printed on the upper left corner of his shirt. Around his waste was a belt, fit with six PokéBalls, three on each side of his belt buckle. He was tall and muscular. His face gave the impression of a young yet powerful person; he had smooth skin with a small nose. His hair was blonde, held together by a band near the back of his neck before flowing down to the small of his back. His eyes were dark brown, and had the sharpness that made one shiver when they looked at Chris’s face. These eyes had seen pain and death. Other than that, Chris seemed like a normal man. With the fact that his left hand was metal. The hand gleamed in the light emitted by the televisions. It was covered with wires and motors, and his knuckles and the tips of his fingers were fitted with spikes. His punch would be very painful to anyone how got in his way.

Most of the screens around the room depicted of missiles being prepared for launch, or of men in black uniforms somewhat similar to Chris’s running around with guns, getting ready for whatever was to come. A few showed the boy from different angles. One was infrared, showing that his entire body had become shades of yellow and red, as did the air around him, flowing upwards like a flame. Another television screen displayed colorful meters, each steadily rising. Underneath each meter was the name of the statistic it covered. Attack, defense, speed, and special were just some of these stats.

“It begins.” Chris said, crossing his arms. His sleeves being pulled slightly as he did so, his wrist also seem to be made from the same metals as his hand.

“We shall see how he fares against the full power of Team Rocket.” Giovanni said as he once again reached for an intercom. “Get every Pokémon we have ready; put the strongest at the back, and the weakest at the very front!” He yelled, the smile that had formerly crossed his face now changing into a frown. He then joined Chris in staring at the boy on the center screen. Minutes passed as though they were hours. The stats suddenly jumped as the boy became enveloped in blue light. Giovanni raised a fist into the air, and hit a large red button.

“It’s futile.” Chris said, a smile now adding to the creepiness of his face. The room Giovanni and Chris were in suddenly shook as a nearby explosion was displayed on the monitors around the room. Machine guns blazed, rockets and missiles were launched, and Pokémon began to attack the building; the one the boy was kept in. Blue light began to shine from the building, and the entire thing soon exploded. The boy shot straight up into the air, surrounded by an orb of blue light. He raised his right hand into the air, and thousands of bright white stars formed around his body. He then pointed his right index finger at the ground, and the stars began to rain into many buildings, people, and Pokémon, cutting through or exploding with whatever they made contact. As the stars did causes chaos on the ground, the boy raised his left arm near his right shoulder, and his right arm to his left shoulder. He clenched his fists, and then opened his hand as though he were holding golf balls in each hand. Small sparks filled the two hands, and black orbs of energy formed inside the hands. The orbs sparked with blue electricity as they grew to the size of baseballs. The boy whipped the orbs at the ground, first from his right arm, then his left. Huge explosions filled the area as the orbs impacted with the ground. The smoke caused by these explosions was blown out of the way when missiles rocketed towards the boy, who didn’t look worried by them at all. The missiles seemed to collide with the boy, causing more explosions. However, as the smoke cleared, the large blue orb the boy was floating in seemed to have completely protected him. The boy then resumed his fetal position, and began to concentrate.

“No! He won’t do it, he can’t!” Giovanni yelled, his eyes widening, turning to Chris. “It is happening again…” Chris did not look surprised at all; his smile only grew.

“When you give somebody that power and piss them off, that’s what they’ll do. It’s inevitable.” Chris said, closing his eyes, laughing silently to himself. “I suggest you ask for help now?”

“Yes, do it.” Giovanni said, his frown returning to his face, as he turned back to the screen the boy was on. Chris unhooked his belt buckle, and removed his belt, raising it into the air.

“Come out.” He said, and the six PokéBalls all opened at the same time. Bright white light filled the room as six Umbreon took shape, standing in front of the desk.

“Protect your masters.” Chris ordered. The Umbreon howled loudly, and each began to glow with black light; dark energy. The ceiling of the room began to glow as well, turning into a dark black shield.

“This better work.” Giovanni said to Chris, still watching the screens. Chris stopped smiling as he too looked at the screens.

“The Psychic attack varies from Pokémon to Pokémon. It usually takes the form of powerful telekinesis, whipping an opponent into surrounding walls or objects in order to cause pain. But this form is different. I have never seen psychic energy overpower dark energy, as we’ve seen him do before. But then again, this group here is pretty special, and they won’t be beat all that easily.” As Chris finished his sentence, the boy disappeared in the growing orb of blue light. The orb grew to probably twenty feet in diameter before it began to become more of an elliptical shape. Its length began to grow to the size of the entire facility; every building in the area was covered.

A single word shot through the heads of everyone in the area. It was the voice of a Pokémon not seen in years, and hardly believed to exist. Yet the voice did not come from the all powerful Pokémon; it came from the boy.

‘Die.’

The second that word filled everyone’s mind, the large oval-like figure of blue light shot both upward and downward at the same time. It stretched to the ground and high into the atmosphere. As the light extended from its source, the speed at which it traveled only accelerated. Satellites orbiting the planet were either destroyed or malfunctioned by the intense energy that zoomed into space. After a few seconds, the light faded away. Back on Earth, all that was left of the area was a lone room with a black ceiling, which disappeared in a flash of dark light. The Six Umbreon, Chris, and Giovanni looked around. The entire base and some of the surrounding area was destroyed, blown away to nothing. Everyone in the area must have been dead. Chris looked upward into the sky.

“He’s gone.”

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

Chapter 2, SuperSonicMewtwo

“He’s gone.” Chris said, staring at the clouds above him. “I will need an upgrade if we are ever to catch him.” He brandished his left arm, and then raised his belt into the air.

“Return.” He said, and each of the six Umbreon transformed into red light before returning to their Pokéballs.

“Why won’t you be able to catch him without upgrading that arm?” Giovanni asked, returning to his desk.

“There were unexpected effects of mixing his DNA with his predecessor. Unusually enough, combining a human’s genes with that of a Pokémon results in an increase of speed. I wouldn’t be surprised if, with some effort, he could travel at speeds higher than sound.” Chris said thoughtfully, pulling at his chin while he spoke.

“What do you mean by travel?” Giovanni asked, sorting through a few papers before frowning at Chris.

“Running, flying, means of getting from one place to another. Most likely flying, for it creates less friction than running. He is still young and weak, and therefore he will not be able to hold such speeds up for a long period of time without tearing his body apart. But he could for perhaps a minute or two.”

“So we’ve found a weakness in him?”

“No. He is smart enough to see this and train his ability to accelerate. That, along with teleportation, will make him impossible to catch; by the time we would get to him, it would be too late. So I once again request an upgrade so that I can experience similar effects to even the odds with him.” Chris said, pulling the sleeve on his left arm to reveal a fully robotic arm, with the fist clenched.

“Very well. But until you have been completed, I think it will be fun to steadily annoy him with increasingly dangerous events.” Giovanni said while smirking. “The plan will continue as originally made, and Team Rocket will have its ultimate weapon soon enough.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

“What did I say about the sirs?”

“Yes Giovanni.”

~-~-~-~

“Yeah, I’ll see you at work tomorrow!” a woman called over her shoulder to another woman in a car. The driver grinned.

“Hey, remember? We’re closed tomorrow because of the festival.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

“What do you mean you forgot? They’ve been talking about it since last years festival!”

“Well, I mean, I knew when it was, but I just sorta forgot.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ll see you in two days!” The woman in the car slowly drove off, leaving the other alone in the street. The other woman, a young adult in a pink coat with long blonde hair waved to her friend, who waved back before driving off into the darkness. The blonde-haired woman looked around the street. Night had covered every inch of the concrete, except for the small patches revealed by the random streetlight. Shivering a bit, the woman pulled the coat closer to her before she began to head down the street. Though there was some light, she still felt afraid of what could be hiding in the darkness where the streetlights didn’t reach. She had better get home quickly; no matter where one was, it was never safe to be outside alone at night.

“I’ll take a shortcut.” She said to herself, before turning to head into an alley. She was halfway through the alley when a tall figure grabbed her and covered her mouth. She let out a muffled scream while trying to push away her attacker.

A few blocks a way, a dark figure turned in the direction of the scream. Where there should have been eyes, two small slits of blue light formed. The figure began to run in the direction of the sound, its footsteps echoing throughout the street and the alleys that branched from it.

“Shut up! Be quiet!” a man said, throwing the woman against the side of a building. “Give me yer money.” He said, revealing a pistol he had kept in his pant pocket.

“Uhhhhh…” the woman said nervously, her eyes wide. She was shocked to a point that she didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t make me use this.” The man said, waving the gun about the woman’s body.

“Du, do, don’t hurt me! I di di didn’t do anything!”

“Give me your money!” the man then pointed the gun straight at the woman’s face. Her wide eyes were focused on the pistol, and she ceased to make a sound as she slid down into a sitting position against the wall. At the end of the alley, the dark figure stood, raising its right arm into the air. The figure shaped its hand like a gun, and a small ball of blue light formed at the end of his index finger.

“What the-AHH!” the man with the gun said, turning to see where the light had come from, only to have a beam of blue energy blast through the gun he was holding. The gun hit the ground, melted. The man held his wrist, where the skin had been burned, looking at the smoldering gun on the ground. He began to turn back to where the light had come from. “Who the-” the man stopped mid-sentence for the figure had suddenly been right next to him, and had punched him square in the jaw, throwing the man some ten yards away. The woman stared in horror and awe as the figure then stood up straight, and seemed to turn to her.

‘It is not safe to walk outside alone at night.’ The figure seemed to say, though the woman could see no mouth moving.

“Uh, yeah, I know, I mean, er, I was just thinking about that. Um, who are you?” the woman blurted out, looking from the now knocked out man who tried to mug her to her rescuer. “Can I see you in the light?”

‘Sure.’ The figure said, and the two walked towards the other end of the alley, into another street. This one had more streetlights, and now the woman could see who her savior was. The dark figure turned out to be a teenage boy, probably 13 or 14 years old. He had long, uncut dark brown hair that hung in front of his face, covering his eyes. His clothing was old and torn, and easily too small for him to wear. He wasn’t very tall, but at the same time he wasn’t very short either. Maybe a little less than 5 and a half feet tall.

“Are you homeless?”

‘You could say that.’

The woman couldn’t help but feel sorry for this boy; he had no home, hardly any clothing, and didn’t look at though he had eaten in quite a while. “Do you want to spend the night at my apartment?”

The boy had to think a bit before answering. ‘What do you mean by that?’

“I mean, would you like to sleep on my couch or something for the night before you go out again? I owe you something for just saving me, and you shouldn’t have to sleep on the ground every night.”

‘Sure.’ The boy said, simply standing in place.

“So, um, yeah… Let’s go!” The woman said, and the boy followed her as they headed down the street. “By the way, my name is Joyce Carson, what’s yours?” They continued walking, but no answer came from the boy.

“Did you hear me?” Joyce asked, turning to look at the boy.

‘I heard you. I am living a new life, and have yet to give myself a name.’ The boy responded.

“Uh, okay.” Joyce shook her head; these homeless people sure were strange. “Well, here’s my apartment building.” The boy followed Joyce up through an elevator to her apartment. Joyce unlocked the door, and the boy walked right past her into the apartment, as though she had been holding the door for him.

“Uh, sure…” Joyce said, blinking a few times before entering herself. Perhaps he never had the chance to learn manners? After closing and locking the door, she turned the lights on to see the boy standing in the middle of the room, facing the other way.

‘You would not happen to have a pair of scissors and a location to place garbage, would you?’ The boy asked, still turned away from Joyce.

“Uh, yeah! Let me get them for you. It’s really none of my business, but what do you need them for?”

‘Hair.’ Joyce had no idea what he meant by ‘hair’, but gave him some scissors and pointed out a small waste paper basket at one end of the apartment. The boy took the scissors, held them in front of his face, and then let go. Joyce stood wide-eyed to see the scissors floating in midair, glowing with blue light. She then screamed as the scissors began to zoom around the boy’s head, only visible by the large smear of blue light in midair above the boy’s shoulders. She watched as the scissors suddenly stopped moving, and a large ball of dark brown hair floated to the waste paper basket. She then looked at the boy, who now had a neatly done haircut.

“I know what you are… You’re a psychic! That’s it! That was telekinesis, I know it! I’ve seen it on TV, you can use psychic powers!” Joyce said excitedly, happy to have figured this little secret out. The boy then turned to her. His hair was short all around his head, but his bangs still hung over his eyes a bit, making them a little hard to see. But Joyce could tell that the boy was looking at her with curiosity. His eyes, with bright green irises, watched her as though they were looking right through her at something else. Joyce was confused by this, only to be swept by nausea.

“Whoa, what happened, what’d you do?”

‘I looked into your mind. You are a perplexing person, and I wanted to know what you were thinking at that moment.’ The boy then frowned, and turned around, to sit down on a nearby couch. He stood up straight, and seemed to be examining the wall.

“You know, you’re too tense. You keep perfectly still and straight, and use words that I’ve never seen a kid your age have in their normal vocabulary. And you’re using the couch all wrong! Here, let me show you.” Joyce removed her coat, dropped it on the floor, then ran over and leaped onto the sofa. She let out a long sigh as she settled back into the cushions.

“You see? It feels great!” Joyce then reached into the cushions of the couch, and pulled out a remote control. She pointed the remote at a TV in front of her and the boy, and turned it on.

‘Our top news story today follows an explosion at an abandoned military facility rumored to have been owned by Team Rocket.’ An anchor woman began. The boy’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the television intently. Joyce looked curiously from the boy back to the TV.

‘For decades it was believed that Team Rocket had been using the facility for Pokémon and military research, and more recent rumors say that Team Rocket had been creating new, powerful Pokémon and weapons there. The Kanto Military’s 5th infantry denies that Team Rocket had been using the base, and says that some kids that wanted to cause trouble had somehow gotten their hands on new bombs created by the infantry’s Pokémon division. We are told that an investigation into the matter is being conducted as we speak, and the perpetrators will be caught soon enough. Now, onto some more exciting matters; the annual Autumn Festival will be held tomorrow at the town square and throughout the city, and the mayor invites anyone with the stomach for the Bellsprout pie should attend-’

“Hey, what happened?” Joyce exclaimed as the TV shut off. She looked down at the remote to see it wasn’t in her hand. She turned to see that the boy had it in his right hand, and was now placing it on the couch. He then crossed his arms, lay back onto the couch, and stared at the ceiling of the apartment.

‘Do not go to that festival.’ He said. Joyce could clearly see that his lips did not move as he spoke.

“Why not?” Joyce asked, whining like a toddler. “I’ve been looking forward to it for like, weeks! Months! And how to do you talk without moving your mouth?” Joyce asked, getting off the couch.

‘Team Rocket is going to disrupt that fair.’ The boy said, turning toward Joyce. “Trade secret.” He then followed up with, using his vocal chords this time. There was a definite difference between the two voices. The one that sounded when the boy did not move his mouth was strong and manly, while the other was easily that of a teenager; sort of low, yet cracking every few words. The boy then turned to face the ceiling again, his eyes unblinking. Joyce raised an eyebrow before walking away.

“You know, I still don’t feel like I’ve paid you back for helping me back there, so I think I’ll just give you whatever money I have in my purse. I mean like, no offense, but you could really use some new clothes.” When Joyce received no response, she searched through her purse and pulled out two 100s.

“All I have is £200. I hope it’s enough to help you out. I’ll just leave it on the table. For now, I’m going to bed. Don’t you go and blink while I’m not around!” Joyce said, waiting for the boy to laugh. He made no sound whatsoever. Joyce shrugged and retreared to her bedroom.

When she awoke the next morning, she found that the money and the boy were gone. All that was left behind was a piece of paper on her table that had ‘IOU’ written across it.

“Boys.” Joyce said, shaking her head as she went to get herself some coffee.

~-~-~-~

The boy headed into the depths of the city, his eyes fixed forward. Little shops and carts covered the streets, as people prepared for the festival which would be kicked off later in the day. However, when the boy walked by, people gaped at him, and made a path for him. He stopped near, turned to, and entered a small clothing store with his eyes and face still fixed in front of him. As he walked into the store, people suddenly turned to see him, some quickly turning away, some glaring as though he were scum. The boy circled the building, before then heading toward the cashier, dropping some clothes on the desk.

“£100, please. Do you even have that kind of money?” The cashier asked, glaring at the boy.

‘You will die a slow and painful death with that attitude.’ The boy said, dropping a bill onto the desk, and taking the clothing. ‘You would not happen to know the location of a building where I can purchase some corrective lenses, would you?’ The boy asked, his eyes narrowing. He looked directly at the cashier, who saw the boy’s eyes and felt a chill go down her spine.

“Uh, take a right, down the street on the left side.” The cashier said, trembling.

‘Thank you.’ The boy said before turning to leave the store and taking a right.

“That guy was creepy!”

“Who was he?”

“From looking at the clothes he wore, I don’t know where he could get £100.”

“Maybe he’s a crook.”

“A member of Team Rocket!”

“No, they all wear uniforms; he’s even worse than the Rockets.” The boy walked down the street again, receiving the same reaction from the people as before. However, he too, like before, ignored the people completely. Once again, the boy entered a building, this time a store for buying glasses. He walked up to the front desk, pulled a piece of paper out of his pant pocket, and thrust it toward the receptionist.

‘I need eyeglasses.’ He said. ‘I want them as soon as possible. That paper has my prescription on it.’ He then pulled out the last bill he had, and placed it too on the desk. ‘That is the most I am willing to pay. Make me a pair of corrective lenses before the festival begins.’ The receptionist, who was typing at her computer, glanced slightly at the boy before returning to her monitor.

“Okay sir, well, we’ll need you to fill out this form, and then you’ll have to wait for all those who ordered before you to have their glasses made-” The voice of the receptionist was bland, as if she had recited these lines a million times. “Also, most people request to make an appointment with the eyedoctor beforehand, in case their prescription has changed. The whole process should take about a week or-”

‘I need glasses now.’ The boy said, his eyes flashing. He raised his hand into the air, and then smashed it into the computer monitor. ‘This pair looks good.’ He then said, as a pair of black frames appeared in his palm.

“Uh, yes sir! Right away!” The receptionist took the prescription and frames and ran to another room hidden by a simple door. The boy stood there for half an hour patiently before the receptionist ran back out with a newly made pair of glasses.

“Here you go sir, um, don’t worry, it’s free of charge-”

‘I thank you for these glasses. However, I am no more above the law than you are, so take the money.’ The boy said, as he took the glasses from the receptionist, placed them on the same pile of which he carried the clothes he bought, and left the store. The receptionist grabbed a telephone, her hands shaking as she called the city police.

“Hello, police? A man just left my work, he was really strong, mean, scary, something’s wrong with him!” The woman listened for a moment, then shook her head furiously. “No, he didn’t have a gun. He himself was a weapon…a weapon worse than any gun…”

The boy, for the third time on the city’s streets, walked down the concrete road and turned to enter an alley. Once far away from the street so that he could not be seen, he tossed the clothing and glasses into the air above him. His body and the airborne clothing both began to glow blue as the clothes he was wearing and the ones he had bought switched places. A pile of old, torn clothing landed in a garbage can at the side of the alley as the boy walked further into the alley, until he was again a dark, shadowy figure.

~-~-~-~

“Welcome, one and all, to the annual Viridian City Autumn Festival! I thank you all for coming!” the Mayor said, smiling with joy at the number of people that had squeezed themselves into the center of the city. He stood at a podium with a microphone, with a few members of the Viridian City Council around him on a large stage right smack in the middle of an intersection. People crowded around to get close enough to see what was going on. “It’s almost noon; the set time for when the festival is to begin, though I think it may have already begun in some places! Patience, people! Only a few more minutes, and then we can all celebrate!” Joyce Carson was once again in her pink coat, this time her blonde hair held together in a ponytail. She stood at the very front of the crowd, as close to the stage as possible. The people were held back by a metal fence, which kept about 10 yards of space between the crowd and the stage. Joyce had left early to get her spot; the boy she had brought into her home was gone, and she had an odd feeling she would find him at the festival.

‘Do not go to that festival.’ The boy’s words echoed in her head. ‘Team Rocket is going to disrupt that fair.’

Joyce found nothing wrong in completely disobeying the boy’s orders; it wasn’t like he was the boss of her, right? Joyce was probably ten years older than that kid, why should she do what he said? And if anything, he should have been more polite to her. He didn’t answer her questions, was rude, left without a word…

“Boys.” Joyce muttered under her breath. She shouldn’t worry, she should just enjoy the festival like everyone else. And that was what she would do.

“Here we go, we’re almost there!” The mayor yelled out happily, as a large red ribbon was stretched across the stage, and he was given a pair of scissors. A large clock behind the stage, as Joyce could see it, said it was 11:58. Only two more minutes. Joyce looked back down to the crowd of people she was in, and noticed a few police officers walking down the small path between the fence and stage. She was able to recognize one instantly; every city in Kanto had an Officer Jenny. But the other police were people she had never seen.

“The receptionist said that he was a young teen, probably 13 or 14 years old. He had Brown hair that nearly covered his eyes, she said he was wearing a torn up shirt and pair of jeans, but was also carrying some new clothes with him.”

“Yeah, and she gave him a pair of glasses, too. Black frames.”

“Well, he sounded like an undercover Team Rocket member to me. I mean, how could anyone be strong enough to do that? The way that woman described it, it’s like he just tapped it with his wrist…”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. All I know is that I’m not going to let anything happen. Not here, not today.” The last officer said, pulling out a gun and loading it.

“Hey! Even in this crowd, people would hear a gunshot. We need something quieter.”

“Don’t worry, I got it covered.” Another officer said, pulling a few Pokéballs out of her pocket. Joyce blinked as the officers strolled away from her. Could this have been the boy she had let stay at her place yesterday? Was he bad or something? What were they going to do to him? What did he do, what did he break? And how did she hear such a long conversation in this crowd, while none of the officers were even close to her?

“5!” The mayor suddenly yelled. Joyce had missed half the countdown.

“4!” people yelled all around in unison.

“3!”

“2 and ¾!” Joyce heard someone yell near her.

“2! 1!”

BANG!

“Attention, peoples of Viridian, if you don’t want any trouble, I suggest you SHUT UP!” a loud voice yelled, somehow having control of every speaker in the area. A man and woman in black uniforms suddenly ran up onto the stage, the woman placing a cloth of the mayor’s face. The mayor fell to the ground unconscious, and the man stood up and addresses the crowd.

“Team Rocket has now seized control of this festival!” he yelled into a microphone hidden somewhere on him while he pulled out a machine gun a Pokéball belt. “Everyone stay calm and nobody gets hurt! Maybe!” The crowd began to scream and push and shove as panic filled everyone’s mind. Joyce was horrorstruck at what was going on. She stood still, speechless, as people ran into her, trying to get away. The woman Rocket whispered something to the man, and then pulled out a walkie-talkie and said something in it. The man then pointed his machine gun straight up into the air, and fired. At the same time, Rockets appeared at all corners of the area, all with either Pokéballs, guns, or machines that oddly resembled strap-on leaf blowers. The people instantly stopped what they were doing, now too scared to move.

“We can do this quick and simple, or long and hard. Now, I want everyone with any Pokémon on them to kindly pass them to the nearest collector calmly and quickly. Those who refuse to give up their Pokémon will have them taken by force. Now, any questions?”

‘Do you really think you’re that intimidating?’

“What?! Who said that, where did that voice come from?”

‘Your left.’ The Rocket, along with everyone in the crowd, turned to see a boy covered by a black cape standing over an unconscious Rocket. All that could be seen of him besides the cape covering his body was his head, covered with brown hair, and black glasses, which gave perfect vision to a pair of small slits of blue light.

“It’s him!” Joyce instantly thought as she stared at the boy.

His body began to spark with electricity as his hair and cape flew around wildly in a small vortex of wind that surrounded him. The cape flying around him allowed the rest of his body to be seen; he wore a dark blue shirt with a pair of jeans with white sneakers with read streaks. The boy stood, his arms crossed, as he seemed to glare at the Rockets on stage. The sparks that zigzagged about his body began to circle in the air around him. The boy placed his left fist at his right shoulder, and his right fist at his left shoulder, then through both out away from his body. There was a brilliant flash of light, and the boy was now floating in midair, incased in a blue orb of energy. The Rockets stared in confusion at this, and the female Rocket on stage grabbed the microphone on the podium that mayor had been using.

“You, who the hell are you?”

‘Your executioner.’ The boy responded, as he floated towards the stage, crossing his arms again.

“I don’t care about your profession, I want a name!” The woman yelled nervously, staring at the boy as he neared the stage.

‘My name? You be sure to tell you boss this. My name is SuperSonicMewtwo.’

[classy_cat18]

Dude, I remember you! You were around when I first started writing Pokemon fanfics! Nice to have you aboard again! This fic is awesome so far! Can't wait for your second chapter! *looks down* Oh, it's up already.

[darktyranitar]

Hmm, I do not really recognise you, as I've not been here often in the old days.

Anyway, back to the fanfic. This fanfic is really good, maybe even great! I like the last part where SuperSonicMewtwo introduce himself, make himself sounds kinda like a reaper. I love the way he said "your executioner".

This fanfic bring me back to the Red/Blue/Yellow Pokemon era. It's pretty well done. I hope you will post more of this fanfic! :smilie:

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

A few replies, maybe another chapter will help get more to read this.

Judge, Jury, and Executioner

‘You can call me The Almighty SuperSonicMewtwo. Or, if that’s too long for your insignificant minds to remember, you may call me S-S-M.’

“Shut up, you freak! All men, machine gun fire on him, NOW!” The male Team Rocket member yelled, pointing at SSM. All the grunts around the town square stood up with machine gun at hand, pointed at SSM and began firing. The crowd ducked as the sound of bullet fire filled their ears. SuperSonicMewtwo continued floating in midair as the bullets slammed against his bubble shaped barrier. In seconds, the entire bubble was covered with the remains of smashed bullets, not an inch left open. The guns stopped firing. All anyone could see was a floating metallic orb. Electricity sparked around the orb, and, with a flash of blue light, the ball of metal fell to the ground. SuperSonicMewtwo, completely unharmed, had teleported himself to the stage.

“So, you know teleportation,” the female Rocket said. “And obviously you know so many of the things psychics know, I can see it in those beautiful eyes of yours.” Her left arm reached behind her back to grab for a gun. SSM raised his right hand into the air, and the gun suddenly flew from its holster. The girl’s eyes widened as it landed into SSM’s hand.

‘You’ve already seen that such a thing fails. There is no need to try again.’ SSM crushed the gun in his hand and let it drop to the ground. ‘No more games. You will receive one chance. Leave now, and you will only have to deal with Viridian Police. Disobey, and you will have to deal with me.’ SuperSonicMewtwo’s eyes flashed menacingly.

“We are not leaving!” The girl shouted, trying to regain her composure.

‘You don’t seem to realize that you don’t have a choice in the matter.’

“Oh, but we do. Even if you can block bullets, I doubt you can block the Special attacks of a Pokémon! Go, Arcanine!” The girl pulled a Pokéball from her pant pocket and threw it onto the stage. The fiery dog lost the white glow it had displayed while being released, and quickly took on a position of attack.

‘You know the difference between right and wrong, yet you choose to obey such idiotic trainers. You will be dealt with appropriately.’ SSM directed at the Pokémon.

“Fire Blast that kid!” The girl said. The Arcanine quickly obeyed, howling as it blew out a stick-figure-shaped mass of fire towards SuperSonicMewtwo.

‘I’m not some kid. Get it through your heads. I’m the death warrant of Team Rocket.’ SSM raised his hands forward. The bubble barrier that had surrounded him seemed to withdraw itself back into his body, his whole body now glowing with fierce blue light. SSM grabbed hold of the Fire Blast as it closed in on him. Holding the fire, he pulled his arm back and pitched it back at the Arcanine. The Pokémon howled as it was hit by its own attack at high velocity and was thrown off the stage, unconscious. SSM looked back at the Team Rocket members on stage. The male grunt was now whispering into a walkie-talkie.

‘Secrets secrets are no fun, until you tell everyone.’ SSM turned to face the Rocket. ‘Do you not realize that you cannot win? What are you scheming this time?’

“Your annihilation.” The Rocket replied as he smirked. “Prepare to fire!” he called, and the grunts all around the city square stood up again.

‘You’ve tried this. You have failed. I’m growing impatient. It is time to end this.’ SSM began to float closer to the stage.

“You don’t seem to realize that those aren’t machine guns they have this time.” the Rocket said, following up by shouting “Fire!” The sounds of igniting rocket fuel filled the air. SSM turned to see some ten missiles being launched.

“Fools.” SuperSonicMewtwo thought to himself, as the blue glow on his body increased in strength. Just as the missiles were about to hit him, he launched himself straight up into the air. Three of the missiles collided with each other and exploded. The other seven swerved around and then followed SSM.

“Blow him out of the sky!” a few Rockets called.

The crowd of Viridian citizens simply stared up into the sky in awe.

“Who, who is this boy?!” Joyce thought as she looked up. She watched as the blue streak that followed SSM turned 90 degrees to the left, the seven missiles chasing SuperSoncMewtwo close behind.

“The flight speed is steady, but I cannot hold my velocity forever. Then again, neither can they. Man versus machine, eh? They don’t realize that in this life, I am not man.” SSM thought, as he looked behind him to glimpse at the following missiles. “Some fancy flight-work here will work fine.” SSM quickly stopped his flight, and turned to face the incoming attack. Crossing his arms, he suddenly took off at high velocity again to his right. Two missiles were unable to calculate how to deal with this and crashed into one another. The other five were still on his tail. SSM clenched his teeth slightly. The bitter wind swept across a cut that had appeared underneath his sleeve on his right arm. Maneuverability at such a high speed was not fully in his grasp, and this would have to end quick if he were to show as little weakness as possible. What could help him here?

“An attack from behind,” he thought. “Large enough to hit them all, small enough to conserve energy for possible future attacks… If they are close together, one exploding will ignite the rest. This will need one Shadow Ball.” Clenching his left hand into a fist, SuperSonicMewtwo opened his hand again. A sparking black orb of energy formed in his palm. He then teleported himself ten meters behind the missles.

‘Team Rocket and evil shall fall. The good in our world shall triumph!’ SSM called out as he threw the Shadow Ball at the missiles. A magnificent explosion filled the sky. The people on the ground shielded their eyes from the blinding light. SSM teleported down, and knocked each grunt into unconsciousness with a punch in the stomach. He then teleported himself onto the stage, standing before the only two conscious grunts left. The female Rocket, rubbing her eyes furiously, was of no threat. The male had covered his eyes with his arm. He was recovering quickly enough to look at SSM in a matter of seconds. Blinking, he turned to face the various places Rocket grunts had been positioned. He saw only motionless bodies lying on the places they had once stood.

“You, how could you? We are Team Rocket! No one defeats us!” the Rocket yelled, unbelieving.

‘Unfortunately for you, ignorance will no longer be bliss.’ SSM crossed his arms.

“You’re all talk! I’ll kill you myself!” The male Rocket ran towards SuperSonicMewtwo, throwing a punch at his face. The fist was stopped an inch from SSM’s cheek. The Rocket and psychic’s eyes caught each other. Then, with a flash of SSM’s eyes, the Rocket was thrown 50 feet behind the stage onto his back. He lay on the ground, unconscious. SSM raised his left hand, and caught a knife between his fingers. He turned to face the female Rocket who had just thrown the kitchen implement at him while his back was turned. The girl’s arm was fully extended from her futile murderous attempt, and her eyes widened in shock at her failure.

‘I’m sick and tired of this.’ SSM said, as the knife began to glow blue. He let go of the knife, and it floated in the air in front of him.

“No…” the Rocket gasped, dropping to her knees. “I don’t want to die!”

‘Mercy will be shown to those who ask for it. Usually.’ SSM narrowed his eyes. The knife shot out, hitting the girl in her right leg. She cried out in pain, grabbing her wound as she fell onto her side. SSM turned away, and hopped off the stage onto the ground. Viridian City was quiet. Every man, woman, and child stared at this hero, the one who had single-handedly saved all of their Pokémon and possibly their lives. A pink coat pushed its way through the crowd, and Joyce emerged. She stumbled over the fencing holding crowd back from the stage.

“You…You really are something, kid.”

‘I have stated my name already. I do not go by “ kid”.’

“Right, right, you’re Supersudkid?”

‘SuperSonicMewtwo is the name that I am to be addressed by. That, or S-S-M.’

“Well, SSM, I guess I should thank you. Well, we all should!” Joyce turned to the crowd. “Let’s thank SuperSonicMewtwo!”

The crowd responded with ‘thank you,’ ‘what’s his name,’ and ‘I want my money back.’

“If you want, you can stay at my place for as long as you need to, I won’t charge you.” Joyce said, placing her hand on SSM’s shoulder.

‘No thank you. Staying in one place will only bring harm to that area and all who live there. I must keep moving, and keep searching.’ SSM turned swiftly with a swish of his cape and walked towards a news crew, more than likely there to film the festival. He faced a cameraman. ‘Is this currently being aired on live television?’

“Uh, yeah, it is, I’m sorry, did you not want-“

‘Keep filming.’ SSM walked up into the view of the camera, crossed his arms again, and glared at the lens.

‘The dark ages are over. Life in Kanto and around the world shall change, for I am here now. I will change this world with my bare hands, and I will destroy any opposing evil. You will receive one chance, and then you are finished. Some have already gone much over their one mistake boundary line, and they shall pay. I am judge, jury, and executioner. Evil people and Pokémon alike be afraid. The name people will cheer upon hearing is SuperSonicMewtwo. S-S-M. Run if you wish. I will find you, you and all of your so well-informed subordinates. That’s right. I know exactly where you are.’ SSM’s eyes flashed dangerously. He uncrossed his arms and walked towards the camera. ‘Forgive me if this does not seem politically correct…But…The reign of SuperSonicMewtwo will soon begin.’ Finishing his last line, SSM quickly threw his fist into the camera lens, the machine sparking as it shut down. SSM looked up to the sky, and turned to face the sun.

~-~-~-~

Giovanni and Chris both stared at a snow-filled television screen inside a closed office. Giovanni had had his pet Persian lying across his lap, but the Pokémon had sensed the anger within her owner, and quickly left the scene.

“Team Rocket will have its ultimate weapon soon enough, Giovanni.” Chris said calmly, as he pulled out a remote control, and turned the television off. Giovanni slammed his fist on the table.

“Damn it!”

[classy_cat18]

Hi. It's me again. Loved the new chapter, although SuperSonicMewtwo is a mouthful and SSM is just plain weird. But hey, it's your fic. Loved the action with the missiles. Keep writing.

[SuperSonicMewtwo]

classy_cat18: Someone who remembers me! Yeah, I know the name is long. I thought of it when I was what.. 12 or 13.. Now nearly 5 years from then, I still like the name. SSM was what other TPMers came up for me, so I use that now. The idea in the story is that SSM would have wanted an unusual name to represent his power and stick out among anything else. SuperSonicMewtwo does that. Everyone know what Super Sonic is (fast speed, cool game character) but wtf is a Mewtwo? sounds like the legendary Mew, eh? remember, only TR knows about Mewtwo. Also, thanks about the comment on the missile thing.. I thought I made it a little corny :redface:.

darktyranitar: Makes him seem like the bad guy of bad guys, eh? that's his ego and his past expeirences getting to him. You'll learn more in Chapter 5 about this.

Next chapter does have some slight religious stuff in it, but that's because I knew no general way to represent what was happening, other than with my own expierence in the subject.

Chapter 4, No Escape

Horns honked and people shoved as they made their way through the streets of Celadon City. The roadways were alive with traffic, and the sidewalks were jammed with people on their ways to and from work, the mall, and any other destinations of desire. A small crowd had formed at one place along the sidewalk, where a row of new television sets were on display in a store window. All sets were tuned to the Kanto Network News for the expected interview with SuperSonicMewtwo, taped days earlier and set to debut on this day. Before the interview was to be displayed, however, a long discussion among many political analysts, critiques, and scientists was being held. A sort of prequel to the interview, to let KNN’s faithful viewers see different views on the crime stopper who had made himself known in Kanto.

“He has no regard for the law, the boy does what he wants, when he wants.” One woman said. “Even with his powers, he does not have authority over anyone. If he wants to carry out law enforcement, he should wait until he’s old enough to train in the Kanto Military Boot Camp.”

“Has he done anything wrong?” a man asked back. “SuperSonicMewtwo just takes care of things when the normal police and military cannot handle the heat; even the Elite Four is praising him for his work!”

“The boy doesn’t even ask to be paid, he doesn’t accept gifts, no one even knows what the kid eats; he’s very humble.”

“Humble? Look at the destruction he leaves! He travels to every city in Kanto, destroys some facility that could easily be brought to use by the government, and then leaves the rubbish for us to clean up! Our taxes are going to fixing what he leaves behind.”

“Every place that he has been seen or thought to have destroyed has been suspected of being a base or hideout for Team Rocket, you know that!”

“But it was never proven. I can see the thoughtfulness in it, but who ever said that it is true?”

“I’m sorry to interrupt ladies and gentleman, but it is 4:30.” A young news anchor said, as she brushed her red hair out of her eyes. “It’s time to give the state what the people have been waiting for.”

“Yes, I’m ready for this.” one critique piped in.

“All right Kanto,” the anchorwoman said as she turned to face the camera. “Your wait is over. We will now air the interview with SuperSonicMewtwo that our own Derek Darnell took last week.” The screen flickered to black for a second, before a gray room faded into view. World famous reporter Derek Darnell sat at one end of a small wooden table. He was known for his work in showing Kanto and the world the dangers of Gloom pollen, helping negotiate a treaty between various Orange Island leaders, and the partnerships between many people and their Pokémon. At the other end of the table sat another familiar figure, with his crossed arms, dark framed glasses, and a look of total boredom on his face, SuperSonicMewtwo. Derek shuffled some papers he had been holding in his hands, placed them on the table, and smiled at the boy across from him.

“All right SSM,” he said. “I know you’re only used to the ‘small crowds’ of the Viridian Autumn Festival, but now you’re in front of millions of people, in Kanto and around the world. How does it feel to face the masses?”

‘I really do not care. One person or many, it is all the same.’ SSM stared at his questioner.

“What do you mean by, ‘it is all the same?’ You always seem to look bored. Do you just find the human race in general as boring?”

‘Yes, overall. Some humans work to overcome social boundaries, and make things out of themselves. However, I have yet to meet one. So for now, it is all the same.’

“One thing that many of us have noticed is your manner of speaking. It has quickly been identified as an ability held by a psychic; being able to generate soft sound waves around the user that mimic speaking. The feeling of being hit by these sound waves gives the sensation of something being spoken directly into our minds rather than our ears, even if seen from a video tape. Why do you talk like this?”

‘One of my predecessors always spoke in this manner. It is the main form of communication I use in this life.’

“Your predecessor, like from a previous life?”

‘Yes.’

Some of the crowd watching the screens out in Celadon became bored from the lack of emotion being displayed in the interview and left to go on with their day. However, just as quickly as room was made to watch the televisions, the gaps were quickly filled by curious people still waiting for their turn to watch.

“You seem to philosophize a bit. It has not been proven that a dead organism can be reanimated, so I suspect that something made you start anew, and you are using…personality traits from a good friend of yours?”

‘Not quite. I was created anew, and have made the decision to live this new life using traits and aspects of those whom I was created from.’

“Who exactly were you created from?”

‘A Pokémon trainer of the past, along with the world’s most powerful Pokémon.’

“A Pokémon trainer? I see no Pokéballs on your belt there. I assume you abandoned your training of Pokémon? What happened?”

‘I’m sure you know the trainer I originated from. The press would not stop following him around. It was three years ago when one of my predecessors made it to the quarterfinals of the Indigo Pokémon League Championship.’

“Wait… three years ago… That was when the new coming trainer, Michael Leiver, disappeared from the Indigo League quarterfinals. He never showed up for his match and was disqualified for being late. No one ever saw the boy again. And now that I think about it, you resemble him very much physically. Are you Michael Leiver?”

‘No. That boy was a predecessor to myself. Michael Leiver is dead.’

“The Kanto Military Police had concluded that the boy had been kidnapped, but there were never any findings of Michael’s body.”

‘His body was used to create my own. I am all that is left of that trainer, Michael Leiver. He is dead, but now I am alive.’

“I don’t think we will be able to get into the aspects of that situation right now… We are on a time limit and I have other questions for you, some of my own and some from the viewers of KNN. But sometime, you’re going to have to give us that whole story.” Derek Darnell smiled

‘I have all the time in the world. Should you wish for another interview, you know where you can find me. The press tends to keep a good track on my location.’

“That is thanks to our ground men. Now, SSM, one thing I am curious about is your power. We already know that you are psychic, and it is not hard to see your power; you always glow a dark blue when you use your abilities. Why blue?”

‘The reason my power is blue is due to the fact that one of my predecessors’ psychic abilities were displayed with blue light energy, and I share his attitude. The color of the light a psychic emits is based off his attitude on life and upon his own strengths. The colors a psychic can display range all those of the color spectrum, from red to violet, along with extremes on each end.’

“‘Extremes?’ What do you mean?”

‘The attitude I hold along with my strength places me at blue. I will not take anything from anyone. Stubbornness is generally associated with anger. In the worst of cases it can be associated with evil. A being of evil with ultimate strength will exhibit the extreme color of black, such as a dark Pokémon. Just as easily, a being of good with ultimate strength will exhibit the extreme color of white. My strength of attitude but lack of evil has placed me at blue.’

“Now I understand. Such insight will more than likely help scientists who study psychic people and Pokémon. I would like to ask you now some questions of our viewers. Question Number One: What is your favorite food?”

‘I have none. Picking a favorite of something will cause disappointment if you can no longer obtain the object of your desire. Disappointment results in distraction. It leaves one open for attack. I can never leave myself open.’

“Ah, you seem to be quite the martial arts fanatic.”

‘During my creation, I received training that I use now against those who taught me such strengths. I hated it, and I hate my strength now. If I could choose to have this power or not, I would get rid of it. That is not an option, though, so I use it to help people.’

“Wait, you use your power against those that gave you your powers? You seem to take on all crime, from bank robberies to jaywalking. However, you do seem to focus on Team Rocket. Does that mean…”

‘I was created by Team Rocket to take over Kanto, as well as surrounding states. I did not find this a suitable fate for myself, and therefore I am doing all I can to oppose the organization. I will completely destroy them.’

“Destruction means death. Despite the debris that follows you around, all that is found people wise is unconscious bodies. Do you not kill, then?”

‘Killing is utterly wrong. I will not kill.’

People had begun to ignore this fact though. Those watching the store televisions began to yell.

“He’s from Team Rocket! He plans to kill us all!”

“Where is the military? They should be capturing him right now!” The people yelling loudly amongst themselves failed to notice a black-caped boy walking down the sidewalk opposite of themselves. Glaring slightly at the people as they began to protest the interview, SuperSonicMewtwo focused straight ahead and on walking upright. He did not want to deal with such people right now, and that meant blending into the crowd. If he used a Recover attack now, he’d surely be noticed… But his wounds were nagging him. It was necessary to find a safe haven, somewhere clear of people, soon.

SSM had been out demolishing another center for Team Rocket. Giovanni and Chris were more than likely tracking his movements, and stocking up each Rocket base with more Pokémon and firepower. He would have to train himself more between his attacks to survive in the next battle. Unknown to the citizens walking around him, SuperSonicMewtwo had obtained a long gash down his right leg, as well as 2nd degree burns on his palms. This made it uncomfortable to be briskly walking out of Celadon City to Route 7, a route which was constantly being closed due to various environmental problems. It had become underused, and would prove a good area for recovery and rest. It wasn’t long before SSM found himself among the grasses and trees found only outside the busy cities of Kanto.

Looking around to see that he was alone, SSM raised his arms into the air, palms flat, and closed his eyes. His body began to glow dark blue, and small bubbles of energy began to rise from the plant life around him. The bubbles, seemingly filled with a rainbow of colors, floated to and absorbed themselves into SuperSonicMewtwo’s body. The scalded skin on his palms seemed to fade away as the Recover attack healed all injuries on SSM’s body. After a few minutes, SSM lowered his arms and opened his eyes, as he inspected his palms and leg. All wounds gone, his body was now perfectly healed. He would have to do this whenever he was hurt, making sure to be alone in the wilderness where the public would not witness the possibility of him having a weakness. SSM knew that Team Rocket more than likely was keeping tabs on him, but as long as the general public didn’t find him, he could Recover in peace.

Despite the newly acquired perfect health of his body, SSM found that he was still tired from carrying out the attack on Team Rocket. He would have to rest physically. It was an unpleasant prospect. Not one day had gone by in three years when he had been able to sleep soundly. He would never get used to always being plagued with dreams of his past. But sleep was sleep, a necessary aspect of being human. But he wasn’t human, he was much more! SSM sighed as he walked over to a large tree and sat down in the shade against its trunk. Putting his head in his knees, he closed eyes and let sleep take him over.

~-~-~-~

“And so, we bid ourselves a final farewell to Jonathon Leiver, whose work in genetic science will more than likely help cure the many diseases and disorders that plague humans and Pokémon. We may never know what this great man was working on when he reached his early demise, but I know that whatever it was, his coworkers who survive shall continue to make sure that John’s efforts are not forgotten or put to waste.” Said one man standing before a small seated crowd, at the shore of New Bark Town. A woman with a bouquet of flowers stood up. She placed them into the water, and wiped away at her tears as she watched the flowers drift away. A few other men also stood up and began to chant aloud.

“Yitkadal vyit kadash s’meh raba.”

“Amen…” As the men continued their chant, the woman returned to her seat and wiped her cheeks with a tissue. A light wind tossed about her long, light brown hair, and a little boy who sat next to her began to play with her hair.

“Argh! It’s a hair attack! Mewtwo quickly dodges and fights back by whipping it with his tail!” the boy said quietly, as he mimicked flight with the plastic toy of a Pokémon in his hand.

“Not now, Michael, please be still.” The woman said to her son, as she took the small figure out of his hands and placed it in her pocket. The boy sighed, but then turned to watch a flock Pidgeys as they flew overhead. The Pokémon world was fascinating. The world was not entirely what little Michael was interested in, though.

Michael’s father, Jonathon Leiver, had gone to work on a new secret project at New Island. Packages Jonathon Leiver mailed over, along with videophone conversations and various data files kept Michael in touch with his father. John had been a man who had been asked to join a genetic research and development team on Pokémon and cloning. The details of his employment were not to be released to anyone. Jonathon instead this rule by teaching his son of the new Pokémon he was helping create, and even sending a small mobile action figure of what the Pokémon was theorized to look like when fully grown and ready to enter the world.

Michael loved this new Pokémon, for it was the most powerful of them all, one that could do whatever it wanted, however and whenever it wanted to. Mewtwo didn’t have to listen to his parents like Michael did, let alone did Mewtwo really have any parents. Mewtwo probably didn’t have to brush his teeth before he went to bed, or cover his mouth when he burped, or take a bath when he got dirty. Michael wanted to make Mewtwo his friend. It was only four more years until Michael became a Pokémon trainer. He would become great enough to find and befriend the world’s most powerful Pokémon. Together, they would be partners in training! But none of this could at all take place when the world’s most powerful Pokémon was sealed up within a woman’s coat pocket. The battles would have to wait until this service was over, and the Leivers went home.

Michael suspected that this gathering of people had something to do with his dad no longer being around, but he was not sure what any of this meant. It was an odd thing Michael had noticed, the absence of his father. He knew that his dad had gone to a far island to help make Mewtwo and other Pokémon, but at least then he talked to Michael daily on the videophone. But the communication had suddenly stopped; letters, phone calls, and packages had all ceased to arrive. It was something Michael didn’t want to think about. And it was unnecessary thinking, anyway. Michael just wanted to play with his most powerful Pokémon.

It was later on when the Leivers arrived back in their home. As soon as they entered the house, Michael reached into his mother’s pocket to retrieve the toy Mewtwo, and began an airborne tour of the house. The woman sighed, collapsed into the nearest chair, and rubbed her temples.

“Michael,” she called. “I want to talk to you.” A few seconds later her son returned, though his mind was still in other places. Mewtwo climbed up the leg of the chair, and then jumped off, only to fly to safety from the fall.

“What mom?”

“We need to talk about your father. Do you know what we just went to?”

“Swiiiiiiiiiiiish, fwooooooom, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeer… Something about dad, I don’t know.”

“It was a funeral, Michael. A funeral.”

“Oh… Is that why we had to dress up? Do you think Mewtwo has to dress up for funerals, mom? Do you even think he wears…”

“MICHAEL!!!” the mother walked up to her son, grabbed the small figure out of his hand, and threw it against the wall. Mewtwo’s head and limbs flew off the body on contact with the wall. Apparently, Mewtwo wasn’t that invincible. Michael’s eyes filled with both fright and tears, but he was too scared to sob. His mother, surprised at her own actions, picked Michael up, and went back to the chair, sitting him down on her lap.

“I’m sorry Michael, but I need you to understand. We went to a funeral. Funerals are so that people who are alive can say goodbye to people who are dead.” Michael then looked up at his mother. He wiped away the tears beneath his black-framed glasses.

“Dead?”

“Yes. And this funeral was for your father. He passed away at New Island. No one knows what happened… Suddenly everyone there had died and the place was filled with wreckage.” His mother, too, began to cry, as she held her son close. “He is gone, and so is everyone else there too. I’m sorry, Michael. Your father, his friends, the Pokémon they were working on, they’re all gone.” At this, Michael’s eyes widened.

“Even Mewtwo?!”

“I don’t know, probably. I don’t know how anything could survive with what happened there.”

“No!” Michael jumped from his mother’s arms and looked at her in disbelief. “Mewtwo can’t die! He’s the most powerful Pokémon! Nothing like that dies, they don’t!” Michael’s crying worsened, and he ran off to his room. It was easy to hear him sobbing through the pillows he would have been stuffing his face in. His mother, looking down, went to pick up the pieces of the toy that had once shown what the world’s most powerful Pokémon was like. Michael was right… This didn’t seem like the kind of thing that would, or could die. Then again, neither did Jonathon. The woman dumped the pieces into a small trash can. She hoped Michael would be all right, she didn’t know if such a shock at his age would have an affect on him later in life.

~-~-~-~

SuperSonicMewtwo’s eyes suddenly widened. He was breathing heavily, and had been sweating. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his hand, SSM gritted his teeth. That stupid boy Michael had no idea of the worse things that would later happen in life. One would think that one bad memory would replace another, but that was wrong; they all always remained. How could they? Would he be plagued by such dreams forever?

‘No.’ SuperSoncMewtwo said. ‘Such things like this will not control me. I am the almighty SuperSonicMewtwo! I do not feel pains like this! I don’t suffer from the memories of that NIEVE LITTLE BOY!’ SSM stood up quickly, and threw an angry punch at the tree he had been sleeping against. Bark flew wildly in every direction as the trunk shattered like glass, and the entire tree fell down, pushing up dirt and Pokémon from the forest floor. Rattata, Weedle, and the like scattered about in fright. SSM sighed heavily and sat down on the newly created stump, and rubbed his temples just his… no, Michael’s mother had seven years before. He had escaped from Team Rocket, but it seemed there was no escape from his past.

[darktyranitar]

Yeah, I think SSM do talk quite a lot, but I guess that's the way he express his opinion.

So, SSM has a past connection with the little boy? I'm guessing that SSM was the one who destroyed the lab and killed Michael's father.

Wait a minute, could it be that SSM DNA was taken from Michael's? I think that's it. That's why he can remember Michael's past.

Okay, see you in the next chapter!