Pmorph Origin

Disclaimer:

I do not own Pokémon, and I do not make any money from this work of fiction. All Pokémon names, references, the original "Silph Co" and "Pokémon technology" mentioned are essentially copyright © 1995 – 2009 Nintendo, Game Freak and Creature Labs.

I do, however, own the rights to this work of fiction, all original characters, and all deviations from the established canon.

Self-rated M due to minor and major graphical violence, implicit and explicit nudity, kills by major characters and undertones that be freaky. This might sound more drastic than it really is though, it's basically comic book violence.

Enjoy the story!

- Björn "Ghost" Ludwig

First draft written from July 21th, 2009 - September 18th, 2009

Last changes made January 11th, 2010

Tabitha

Doctor Andrew Sullivan liked to think of himself as an engineer, and in truth he was one. There was a difference between a job description and a way to see yourself, though. He was good at getting things done, in a slightly absentminded way, because he always paid attention to detail, just like a good engineer did. This had left him, over the years, with a keen eye and the ability to act quickly, both of which served him well when he entered a glum cell and was greeted by an angry hiss.

This wasn't unusual. Unfortunately, his job brought with it a lot of potential for being shouted, hissed, cried, and yelled at. Dr. Sullivan had developed a certain routine to deal with angry customers. But usually these were at the far end of a table, or even at the other side of a phone line. This one was with him in a small, padded cell, and the hiss was backed up by a fist flying towards him.

He ducked and pushed back, forcing the door shut behind him, and then moved to the side with a speed that was unusual for an elderly, rather podgy man. He heard a smack and a groan and turned around to see a very angry young woman rubbing her shoulder. She'd hit the padded door quite hard and glared angrily at him. He spread his hands.

"Please", he said, "Calm down. There is no need for violence. I am, in fact, here to help you. It's all a bit confusing, I know, but please believe me: No-one will harm you, and this is all not what it seems. You're not even in detention…" Her mocking stare made him stop and glance around. They were in a cell. Very clearly a cell. His words were not too convincing as long as they were in a cell. He tried again.

"Let's just say that there was a slight misunderstanding, yes? You are free to go, but I would like to talk to you before. I have some interesting things to say, and they may probably, well, interest you."

"Sir, I came because your company sent me an invitation! You had this application thing on your website, and I filled it out and was asked to come here!"

"And as soon as you got to the gates you were brought here", nodded Sullivan, "And that's where our misunderstanding started, see?"

"You mean it's normal to have a cell in a…"

"Security rooms. We have a lot of security, so we have a lot of what may look like cells. We call them visitor's rooms. Harmless, really. You should see our toilets."

"I was locked in!" She was still leaning against the door, rubbing her shoulder. She looked both frightened and angry, which was a bad combination. Sullivan spoke quickly.

"Not exactly locked in. Okay. Listen. You have been invited into Silph Corporation. You have entered a complex where security is taken serious. Each visitor is brought here. First, you may know about these rumours that Silph houses a very large waste disposal for a lot of things that are toxic, radioactive and poisonous? Stuff that can go bang very easily?"

"Yeah, well, people always say something…"

"All true."

"Ah." The girl relaxed slightly. "O-kay."

"Second, this is a very large building where a lot of things happen behind closed doors. We like it that way, and we do not give anyone the big tour before we checked on them a little. The guard on duty is still new and a bit overenthusiastic. Well, that's all there is to say. I still need to apologise that no-one actually told you that you are, of course, our guest. Not our hostage. We don't take hostages, see, they tend to be high maintenance." He smiled drily.

"Okay. I think I understand", the girl said, apparently noticing his little joke.

"Splendid. I'm Dr. Sullivan, by the way, and you will work with me if you accept my apology and a job offer."

The girl burst into an exited smile. She looked much nicer when she smiled, and Sullivan felt all sorts of guilt well up in his stomach. He actually wanted people to mistrust him a little. He felt better when he was sure that people would take everything he said with a pinch of salt, and probably mustard. The girl squared her shoulders and cocked her head.

"Just like that? There's no selection process or interview or something?"

"Wish there was, but no. You were the only applicant who qualified. In fact, you're the only one who found the "send" button. So yes, allow me to congratulate you on your new job, Miss Carlyle."

"Tabitha." She had completely changed within a few seconds; now she was all anticipation and excitement.

"So, Miss Carlyle, I've read your letter of application with great interest", said Dr. Sullivan as he lead the girl through the labyrinth that was Silph Corporation, "I must say that I was very impressed." And he was. Or rather, he had been impressed for about two pages, and then had almost cried out of sheer disappointment.

Tabitha Carlyle was twenty-five years old but had quit school early, and her curriculum vitae read like a tour-de-force through half a dozen different jobs. Most of them involved machinery. She appeared to be a decent mechanic, that much could be said, but she had never been properly trained. She was lower middle class, she was in decent shape, and she seemed to get on well with people. All of this was useful. The tests that were part of the application also proved that she excelled in transferring knowledge. She was very, very good at adapting. To be honest, this was all Sullivan had been interested in. He needed someone who was good at being flexible, so this was a great bonus.

Flexibility alone, however, could not outweigh all the reasons that spoke against her. As he walked Tabitha through brightly lit corridors, occasionally exchanging a few words with a passing co-worker, he had a hard time deciding what to do with the girl. She seemed eager and easy to like, sure enough.

But- well, first, she was too young. That really was a minor point, but he considered it important. Being of age wasn't enough. There was the proverbial Anvil Of Life (with justified capitals, oh yes, since it was quite a big and very tough anvil) on which someone should be thoroughly beaten for a while, but Tabitha was… soft. She also was in a pretty mediocre physical shape- slight and petite, the kind of young woman you actually called a girl without feeling bad about it. She hadn't listed any sports she regularly practised, only Yoga. Yoga!

And while she seemed to have a small gift for mechanics she was not exactly bright. Not exactly stupid, but rather streetwise than really… intelligent. And she appeared to be flighty. Not a cool thinker, an impulsive and naïve scatterbrain.

But Dr. Sullivan was aware that, due to the limits of his recruiting methods, he would never get the full package: The intelligent athlete with the perfect body and matching wonderful personality, mature yet youthful, flawless and brilliant and charming. He would never get the Mary Sue. He would always get something like Tabitha Carlyle.

"What I'd like to know, Miss Carlyle, is what you think we are looking for."

"The application was for a research project. Stress and sleep withdrawal and all that."

"Yes, and you read the tests and filled them out. I bet you thought a bit before you hit the send button. What do you think we're really up to?"

"Oh, that. I think you're going to test new medicaments", she said easily, "I mean, everyone knows Silph does that. Though no-one must say it loud."

Dr. Sullivan was impressed. He himself had written the tests, and the application itself really asked for people able to stay awake for at least fifty hours. He had, however, hidden a lurking array of trapdoors in the tests. He could learn a lot about the person who was foolish enough to fill out several dozen apparently innocent questions. He'd also been quite sure that the test would fool even a very sharp thinker. Streetwise or not, the girl had common sense.

"Good guess", he said flatly, "How come you know about that?"

"I overheard someone in a pup I sometimes go. There's all sorts of gossip, you know. People even blog about Silph doing illegal tests to heal cancer and Alzheimer. And that you're working on a formula to make people live forever."

"That is an actual rumour?"

"One of a dozen." She chuckled. "But I bet some rumours are your own, right? Silph makes up some funny myths for everyone to read so that people are even more confused. And then you have a good laugh at them."

"Then tell me, what do you think your job will be?", asked Sullivan, ignoring that last comment because, heck, it was true.

"Oh, I don't know. You… are going to see how radiation works on me, something like that? Some super laser thing?"

"And you wouldn't mind?"

"Well, are you going to point lasers at me?"

"Let's assume for a minute that we would do some even more radical things."

"Like what, using a very big laser? Two of them? What do you mean?"

"Miss Carlyle, what do you know about mutations?"

She barely shrugged.

"I know they are changes in the body, and I know that they take very long. You need years to get one right. Is that what you want, try to mutate something? Or someone? Me?"

"Again, would you mind?"

"I think not. I wouldn't be affected, would I? Mutation takes ages. Generations. And, well, you pay well, so I think it's okay."

"Ah. You're in for the money." Dr. Sullivan was, all of a sudden, a very depressed man. He waited for her answer and listened carefully if she was going to lie. A lie would get her out of the job faster than she could say "dollar, please".

"No", she said with disarming honesty, "It sounds silly, but do you know what I want? I want to help you. My mother had Alzheimer, you know, and it's not nice to see that happen to someone you love. She died. So if I can help Silph to make a formula against Alzheimer, or some other nasty disease, I really want to have my name in the credits."

"Hrmph", made Hank Sullivan, very pleased for the first time. She was speaking the truth. This was an answer to tip the scales, all right. If she could impress him one last time, she was in for sure, no matter how much he would need to throw his weight around. He was a senior, and he did have some weight to throw around. He moved his lips silently, trying to find some words that would make him not sound like a fool.

"Since you happen to know some rumours, Miss Carlyle", he finally said, "Have you ever heard of pokemon?"

She stopped dead, and so did he. They were now deep in the basement, and all sorts of small, everyday noises- the air conditioning, the whirring of a small machine, someone closing a door- suddenly seemed all too loud. Tabitha ran her hands through her short, black hair and made a sucking noise through her teeth. But she didn't laugh.

"My grandmother used to tell me that one of her friends once found a strange animal. A dead one. An animal that wasn't like any animal he knew", she finally said, "And sometimes there are funny little stories floating around the internet. Fake photos and things."

"Fake indeed", said Dr. Sullivan and pointed at a door. It bore a small plaque which read "Samples". He made up his mind, opened the door, and entered the room.

"Want to see the real thing?", he called over his shoulder. With an unbelieving grin, Tabitha followed.