Author's Note: Welcome to this new story! Thank you everyone! Don't hesitate to review or PM with suggestions or criticisms that are constructive. Thank you world!

Little Disclaimer Here: Also, if you take a look at this lovely cover, it was illustrated by a very close friend of mine, Christine! THANK YOU BUDDY!

The screeching sound of chalk against the metal floors of my cage stopped making me flinch long ago. "Today it has been..." I stopped to count the seemly endless white chalk ticks on the steel floor. They covered almost the entire ground. My cage was about 10 feet wide and 6 and a half feet tall. I stopped growing at 5' 6'', but they had to heighten the cage for my friend. "Wow!" I whistled. "Today is the 11 year anniversary of Doomsday!" Of course, only we called it Doomsday; that's what it was for us.

"Sucks to suck, doesn't it?" my friend Frost said while leaning against one of the walls of the cage. Leaning against the bars always hurt my back but it never seemed to bother him. At his height, he was 6' 2'' and was the reason our cage has been made a little taller. Casually, he chewed on his nails and spit them out near the outside of our cage. Frost's eyes were red but he didn't look evil. His hair was a very pale blue and sometimes it even looked white. His hair was short and stuck up a lot in the back. It reminded me of frozen icicles which makes sense because his natural body temperature was 70 degrees Fahrenheit. Frost had an angular face with sharp features. He wasn't the kind of person to miss a single beat. His eyes seemed to pierce through any lie and any barrier. I was the only one could see through him though.

He wore simple clothing because that's all they gave us. The two of us wore cargo shorts but his were longer and black. Mine were a faded camouflage with the pockets at the sides. They didn't have any female styles. We both wore simple white T-shirts that were one size fits all. Shoes were something we didn't have and it even took a lot of arguing for me to get them to give me a bra.

"Yup," I nodded in agreement. "So, how old are you now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. 18 I think. I was 7 when I was taken so 7+11 is 18." He raised an eyebrow to me. "What about you, Scarlet?"

"I think I'm 16," I responded while sliding down the bars to sit casually too. The bars dug into my back but I ignored them for once. I gazed up at the metal top of the cage. The soundlessness of the lab was sometimes overwhelming and it made me uneasy. Vague memories of the night I was taken began to resurface. I hastily pushed the thoughts away and turned back to my friend who was moving onto his other hand.

"You never seem to run out of nail to chew on," I remarked.

Without looking up he spoke. "The damn things keep growing back."

I looked down at my own hands. They were covered in scars and dirt was caked in my nails making them look like black crescent moons. I tired to remember the last time I washed my hands, or anywhere else for that matter, but I couldn't seem to.

"Do you think our families think we're dead?" Frost asked with a nonchalant tone. I wondered if he would even care if he was dead.

"Probably," I said while trying to pick the dirt out of my nails. I didn't really care about the dirt; it was just something to keep my hands busy. "I don't really remember them though so I doubt they'd even remember me." I couldn't help but notice Frost's particular interest in the subject. Normally, we didn't talk about our families. "Why?" I asked, trying to sound easy about it.

"No reason," he shrugged my comment off.

"What time is it?" I questioned. I had just woken up about half and hour ago but there were no windows making it hard to tell the time.

Frost stood and stretched. His back cracked like bubble wrap as he put his hands in front of himself and arched his back. "I have no idea. I only woke up a few minutes before you."

I continued to mindlessly clean off my hands. This was our lives. Just living in a cage. I'm nicknamed Scarlet because of my abilities to control fire. Yup. I'm fireproof, I breathe fire, create it, make it flicker, use most fire-type Pokemon moves... I couldn't always do that though. I was kidnapped when I was five years old and brought to this lab. Frost and I were brought here together. They named him Subject 56 and I am Subject 57; he was seven and I was five. We called that day Doomsday, because it was the day our lives were ruined.

The region we were in was Unova. That much they've told us. I only had a vague memory of my Doomsday. I was in a forest when they took me. It was nighttime but I don't know if I was alone. They seemed to materialize out of nowhere and take me away. I do remember that was the night I received the scar on my face. I must've put up a good fight because they turned their Pokemon on me. I'd never forget the Weavile that clawed at my left eye. A long red line ran through my left eye that started just under my eyebrow and tricked its way down to the top of my cheek.

Frost remembered less about his Doomsday than I did. I can't help but wonder how long it took our families to notice we were gone... Since I was so young, I can't remember where I'm from, I don't remember my family, I don't even remember my real name.

I bet you're curious who 'they' are. Well, so am I. I don't understand so much about this place. Why did they even want humans who could use Pokemon abilities and control types? That's what the Pokemon are for!

The sound of air frosting over jerked me out of my thoughts. I turned my attention to Frost who stood beside me, longingly clutching the bars of our cage. His knuckles turned white with the intensity at which he grasped them. The air around his hands seemed to freeze. Ice began forming as a frosty white chill crept up the bars as it sprouted from his hands.

"Frost," I said gently.

He turned away with angst heavy in his eyes. "I know," he grumbled. I craned my neck to see the ice Frost set on the bars of the cage. Ice is beautiful. The artificial lighting from the lab caught in the ice and even that looked pretty when it glittered on the frozen water. I loved it when Frost created ice... but unauthorized use of our abilities lead to serious consequences. Where did you think Subject 55 was? I held my hand out towards the ice that glazed the bar. I closed my eyes and felt my fire to bubble up within my body spreading invaluable warmth. When I allowed my eyes to open, the ice was trickling town the bar like tears until it amounted to a puddle at the floor.

"You have to be more careful," I said.

The room our cage was in was a lab. There were no windows but the sent of antiseptic hung heavily in the air. Long lights were installed in the ceiling and ran up and down the roof. The low drone of the electricity never slept and never let me sleep. There were multiple silver colored tables running along the perimeter of the room. The tables were all bare and whipped to be perfectly clean. Our cage was in the back of this large, spacious room and sort of pushed off to the corner. In the center of the room, there was a large table with chains dangling down the side. Subject 59 died on that table. But there were no bloodstains anymore.

In the corner on the far side of the room, there was a metal cart. The cart was loaded with countless syringes, flasks, tweezers, beakers, graduated cylinders, scalpels, scissors, gloves, aprons... What more could a girl want? They were all organized in alphabetic order and quantity. This place was free of error. Anything that was an error or caused an error was gone. Just like the clouds that race across the sky.

The large vault-like door began to creak with news of a visitor. Frost and I both snapped our heads to the door at the same time. When the heavy, bulletproof door finally made it open, no one came in for a while. I heard the sound of whimpering and flinched already expecting what was coming. One of them came in. This one was female with a hard, stolid face. Her long white lab coat was perfectly ironed and not a single crease dared to show. Her brown hair was perfect in a fitting bun. The light reflected off her glasses to hide her eyes from us.

She wasn't the one I was paying attention to though; it was the little boy she was tugging beside her. She gripped him by the wrist and yanked him forward when he walked to slow and he'd give a whimper of pain. This boy seemed to be no older than seven... Maybe eight. The clothing he wore was ragged and torn. He was wearing sport shorts that were black and baggy with two blue lines running down either side. His shirt was blue too, like the sky. His short blond hair was matted with dirt and blood while the blood on his clothing was just beginning to dry. Chunks of his clothing were torn apart and even the right sleeve was completely severed. His innocent brown eyes were stretched wide with wild fear. His eyes were already puffy from crying and more tears bubbled up in his eyes.

"Subject 56," the scientist nodded to Frost. She turned to me. "57." Mercilessly, she shoved the fearful child in front of her. "Meet Subject 62."