A/N: Another fic from a remi and an Aiko. Because why not? Enjoy the AU!

Prologue: Chaos and Storms

When light and dark combined, they created the universe. But when these two conflicting powers came together, they destroyed the hope for sparing it as well.

Maybe if Ash hadn't been in between, they would have cancelled each other out, or combined into some saving grace. Or maybe something worse would have happened: two atoms colliding with the force of an atomic bomb and wiping the island, and the world around, off the map.

But Ash had been in between, and the two opposing powers had clashed with him and turned him into stone.

For a few moments, the air had had gone utterly still. The blast of raw energy had thrown the field into order, all of the combatants too tired to continue. The room was silent. Not even the humans, free from fighting, were able to move as the stone body thumped to the ground.

Mew, hovering in place, tilted its oversized head. It didn't move more than that. It was almost contemplative. The air of the room had changed. Mewtwo felt it in his skin. Mew was… stricken. Did he not know what to do? Had he never truly hurt a human before? How strange. Would this be the right time then? To fell him in all of the quiet.

Perhaps it would.

He drew up the psychic energy, warm beneath pink fur, and fired.

Mew had no time to react when the ball hit him, and he soundlessly fell.

Pandamonium erupted. The humans tried to collect their Pokemon and flee. The clones scattered. Most chased after their originals as Mewtwo's gaze turned to them, but a few did not. Meowth ignored his counterpart and stared at the boy in stone. His Pikachu clung to the form. And all his Pokemon cried. Fat tears that accomplished nothing. It made him sad, somehow.

The Pikachu clone watched his counterpart and so bore witness to the scene as well. Pikachu who had refused to fight him. Pikachu who was crying over a trainer who'd tried to stop the fighting. It seemed so foolish - and yet, they were the only ones to even try. The only ones to have hope. But he still couldn't grasp that idea. Hope for what? It hadn't yet been an hour since he'd been alive.

The clone remembered scratching, clawing, hitting his counterpart. That was all he knew. The battle, the sting. Did all Pokemon, all originals, not know this? Did they not feel the joy of it? Perhaps a trainer muted it, made it less than useful. Then why fight at all? Why resist like they had?

He didn't understand. It was all so confusing. Why did he need to know? Why was his counterpart crying?

Why was he crying?

"Pri…"

He turned. One of the humans had left their bag. Was there a bag Pokemon they did not know about? He edged towards it, ears up and cheeks sparking. The crying counterpart and human were forgotten. The clone reached the bag and began to paw it open. When the gap was wide enough to stick his head in, out rolled what looked like an egg. Then little hands and feet popped out, spiky head unfurling. It began to whimper and cry. He peered at it and then it wandered towards him, still crying. He began to back away. Unknown variable, didn't compute.

That didn't stop the strange little pokemon though. It still came, still cried. Until a stray blast from one of the pairs frightened it and it began to wave its arms.

The clone Pikachu continued to back away. The original Meowth trying to drag away the clone one. A Gyarados rearing overhead. He tumbled over a tail and fell - a Vulpix. The clone. He could see the real one backing away, towards its human. The real Gyarados at the water, ducking a Hydro Pump, its trainer on its back. The clone Pidgeot swooping over them as the real one attempted to launch itself into the storm with its human astride. Two Rhydon, about to charge at each other. They weren't quite in the middle though. Small mercy. And the strange little pokemon had stopped its approach.

When the waving arms stopped and a bright light enveloped the clone Pikachu and the surrounds, he understood. Sort of.

Was this what was called a temper tantrum?

To Mewtwo, the battlefield went from full to nearly empty in an instant. That screaming, the flash of light, and valuable clones, gone. Stolen. By an original. By his own oversight. It was luck. It was a fluke.

He looked around the remains. Many of his soldiers were beside him, eyes rapt on the escapees. They were waiting. Let them hunt? Capture? Or let the monsters run? It was a hard decision.

Yet they were just the first. And the humans were cast adrift in the storm. He could improve his clones. Make them better. Make them perfect. Maybe it didn't matter after all. It was unfortunate he'd lost an original he had no DNA for but his plan could move on nonetheless. Maybe he'd come across it again before the world was his. Certainly he would in the aftermath. He could afford to let them go. Once he'd established himself a little more he could search - if the matter still pressed in his mind. At the moment though, he'd defeated Mew, he'd started his army of clones and he had proven their might against the originals. The proof was the trainers and pokemon fleeing in the storm.

Some would drown. He had no need for all of them, but the others could be useful. Nurse Joy had proved indispensable. And he'd ensnared two gym leaders with his net.

The question would be whether he needed them both or not. Or perhaps… well, there were ways to keep them useful until they weren't.

Now, a way to capture them…

"Venasaur, grab them." The Pokemon grunted. "Hunt them, all of you. If they live, keep them. They are worthy. Then, we conquer."

The soldiers roared and burst into attack. Outside the safety of his walls, the storm spread. Not even he could control it now. And why would he?