They were called the Chrome Syndicate. They did not believe in stupidity, or brute force tactics to achieve their evil desires. Biding their time, and using their brains over brawn, had brought the C.S. a vast fortune.

That wealth was used to create genetically altered humans. Their DNA had been re-designed, merged with various Pokemon to create a group of basic Pokemorphs, each with different abilities. The experiments did not go without their share of failures, of the 10 attempted, only five managed to survive the horrifying process.

The last two experiments were failures due to an error in merging the DNA of a Legendary Pokemon with a human. The original Merging Serum failed to work, killing the test subjects in a the most painful death imaginable as the wills of human and pokemon rebelled and collided, and as DNA began to erase and eradicate the very existence of the poor soul that was being tested on.

At last, at his wits end, Damien Rivenchist, the leader of the Chrome Syndicate, found her. Her intelligence was unmatched, and she was so young, so easy to sway, barely older than a child. She created the ultimate genetic composition, designed to flawlessly combine the bases of human and pokemon DNA as if it occurred naturally.

But she was envied by the genius that designed the original Pokemorph process. He had failed so many times, and this girl, on her first little burst of inspiration, had created an injection that, in theory, would allow any DNA to re-enter and overwrite certain bases in the host's DNA.

And before she could see her own theory tested, the genius disappeared.

(Athene)

What's going on?

Where am I?More importantly, who am I?

I'm cold.

But…what is cold?I don't think I like it.

I opened my eyes. It was dark, and very wet, almost suffocating. Something covered my face, forcing something harsh and dry into my lungs, hurting my chest. It itched, so I removed it.

As I inhaled the strange liquid, I coughed, sending a huge bubble through the murky solution I was submerged in. I was curled up in a ball, as if I was trying to keep all of the heat I radiated to myself. I wanted to, my skin prickled with a chilly feeling.

A loud, blaring sound began to throb within my head. The darkness drained around me, and a hit a hard, silver disc structure. A tube of glass surrounded me. I hit the base structure a little hard, and made a soft, whining squeak. I blinked several times, blinded by the suddenness of bright lights focusing on me. Then, I looked into the glass-the pale, easily broken stuff, that's what it's called, isn't it?-and blinked.

Who is that? The dainty head tilted to the side.

What is she? The big blue eyes were confused--yes! That was the word! Pink hair, a pretty, light color, was plastered to her face by the odd liquid in the tank, and stuck to her body. Her hair was long, it fell all the way down her back! Two little pink ears perked from her hair, and a long, pink tail wrapped around her pale legs. She was pretty in a cute way, and although she was not all skin and bones-she had a bit of a figure--she was very petite-petite meant small, right?

She seemed weak and sickly. Her skin was porcelain pale, but she glowed with an inner light that emanated from her in a supernatural sort of way.

I reached out to touch her, and the pretty, feminine hand of the girl touched mine.

Wait.

She was me! I was the shivering girl-the helpless looking creature in the strange tank.

"It works! She was a success." A man with grey hair and a thin blonde beard that was beginning to show streaks of silver looked smugly at me.

I opened my mouth, as if expecting something to come out, like this man did. But…how does one…speak?

"Who…are you?" The voice asked. It was strange, a girl's-that much I knew-but it was not weak or wispy as I would have thought. It was my voice! "I…I can talk!" I tilted my head to the side. I felt so innocent, so unknowing, when I felt like I should know so much more…

"I am Dr. Cullman. Your creator-head scientist of genetics in the Chrome Syndicate."

Cullman? Where had I heard that before? Well, he did say he was my "creator"…

"If you are feeling confused," Doctor Cullman added, pressing a button that caused the glass to rise away from the silver disk, "IT is because your human mind is having to re-mature. Don't worry, your thought processes will soon be back to the normal maturity of a seventeen year old girl." He took my face in his hand and tilted it up. I met his dark eyes without flinched, my body quivering from the freezing temperature of the room and my body's slight warmth. I knew I was too cold, and that I was having difficulties maintaining my body temperature. "I see that we'll need to get you your blood transfusion, you look quite weak…" Dr. Cullman handed me a necklace with silver tags on it. I looked at the silver plates.

Athene: Experiment 011 Blood Type A-

"Blood transfusion?" I asked, sounding frightened. "Blood transfusion" sounded messy, and a little painful.

"You'll see. Now come with me." Dr. Cullman helped me step down from the tank, helping me maintain my balance as I attempted to stand. He had me perform several meaningless tasks, such as touching each finger to my thumb. Satisfied, he scribbled something down on a clip-board, and then led me past several odd flashing machines with screens that showed many odd things, such as pictures of people and odd, moving charts that seemed to symbolize things. I couldn't read them, but I knew they were computers--monitors to be precise. I was finally pushed into a room with clothes hanging around the circular walls.

A bored looking lady was snoring lightly in a chair. I sneezed suddenly, and she sat up, eyes wide.

As she saw me, she calmed down. "Oh, hello. I take it you're the new experiment?"

Unsure of what to say, I put my arms behind my back and looked away shyly. The woman sighed and grabbed a long piece of nylon material with strange markings on it that determined measurements. She put it around my bust and hips, and told me what to put on. After I put on the undergarments correctly, she told me I could take whatever clothes I wanted from the room and wear them.

I got a soft, light red short sleeve shirt and pulled it on. Then I noticed a large brown pullover that could zip up from about mid-chest. I put it on, delighted by how comfy and warm it was, despite the fact that it seemed to swallow my petite frame in wrinkles and folds of its massive wool knit. I found a skirt that matched my outfit, and slipped it on. But this left my legs cold, so I found a pair of tall wool socks that complemented my clothes. I didn't want any shoes though, so I refused the ones the lady offered me.

Now that I was fully dressed, I walked back outside to Dr. Cullman.

"I'm dizzy," I told him after a couple of minutes of walking down a hallway. I sounded like I was out of breath, near hyperventilation. I put my hand, fully covered up by my pullover's sleeve, onto my temple.

"We're here." The Dr. walked into a room with a couple of big, soft chairs, and big metal boxes that emanated a deep chill from them. "Sit down over there." I did as I was told, and sat down in a comfortable purple recliner-type chair.

"Give her type A-." Dr. Cullman told a woman standing in the room--the nurse.

I looked at Dr. Cullman, "Am I…in the hospital?" Knowledge was returning to me.

"No." He replied. "You are in the Medical Wing of the Chrome Syndicate HQ Building."

The nurse had returned with a packet of crimson blood. She knelt beside me, rolling up my left sleeve, quickly and efficiently jabbing an IV needle into the vein that was located in the crook of my elbow, ignoring my cry of shock and discomfort.

"Alright sweetie, just relax." She stroked my hair and hooked the IV tube into the blood.

A small device on Dr. Cullman's belt said, "This is Damien Rivenchist calling Dr. Cullman. If 011 is ready, I will be coming to meet her."

"She's ready. I am on the Medical Floor in the transfusion room." Dr. Cullman answered the man's voice.