Chapter 4

Misty was overwhelmed. There were too many voices, all blending and clashing with each other; and loud, obnoxious laughter echoed off the walls. It gave her a headache. She had already drunk too much wine, and it was a big mistake. She could not handle one more coworker flirting with her or one more "cordial" conversation with an acquaintance she secretly couldn't stand.

She decided to retreat to the hallway for some space. Taking a deep breath, Misty filled her lungs with air, and, as she exhaled, she tried to erase the tension and uneasiness she felt.

It didn't work.

Looking across the hall, she shuddered when she saw the empty shaft of the elevator, now decorated with caution tape and a big 'OUT OF ORDER' sign in front of it. She personally thought the sign was overkill; no one in her right mind would try to step into a dark, empty elevator shaft. Of course, after the stupid jokes and buzzed conversations she had heard tonight, she wasn't sure everyone she worked with was in their right mind…

She could still hear their voices from out in the hall. Mr. Holmes was boisterously narrating a personal story to another coworker just inside the door. Mr. Holmes's tone was loud and obnoxious, but Misty wasn't sure if it was drunkenness or just his personality.

The poor coworker (a man, she gathered from hearing his brief interjections of "oh" and "really?") politely listened. She wondered who it was; she didn't recognize the man's voice. There were some retired employees she didn't know who had been invited to the party, but they were mostly over the age of fifty, and this man sounded young.

Finally, Mr. Holmes ended his story. "So what location of Pokemon Tech did you say you taught at again?"

"I am the principal of the Ivory City location."

"Ah, Ivory… I see."

Misty raised an eyebrow. Ivory City? She had never even heard of it, and she knew both the Kanto and Johto regions well because of Ash. Either this man was from a long way away, or he was making it up.

"What type of pokemon do you train?" asked Mr. Holmes.

"I train all types," the man replied. His voice was low, flat, and emotionless, and Misty had no clue whether he was enjoying the conversation, or if Mr. Holmes was annoying him to death. "But I specialize in the psychic type."

Psychic type? That's interesting, Misty thought to herself.

"Yikes!" exclaimed Mr. Holmes, "That type can be tough to raise! I never had the patience for 'em, myself. I don't like raising types that are hard to control. I like to catch 'em young, usually normal and fighting types, that'll always do what I tell 'em."

There was a pause in the conversation. Even from the other side of the door, Misty could sense the tension in the air. When the unknown man spoke again, Misty heard the obvious irritation in his voice.

"Pokemon are not meant to be controlled or forced to obey commands without question. Pokemon and their trainers are supposed to work together, as equals," the man said coldly.

Misty cringed as Mr. Holmes laughed. "Well, different strokes for different folks!" he commented. The other man did not reply, and Mr. Holmes just kept talking, oblivious.

"What have you got in your party right now, if I may ask?"

"I do not have a "party", as you call it, but I am currently raising an abra."

Mr. Holmes laughed again. Misty was getting frustrated— her boss could be so tactless!

"An abra, huh? What level? Fifteen or so?"

"Seventy-five."

"Seventy-five?" Mr. Holmes asked incredulously, not really caring if he got an answer, "and you still haven't made it evolve into a kadabra?"

"Only a poor trainer would force a pokemon to evolve against its will." The man was now outright angry. The intensity in his voice gave Misty the chills.

"Ok, point taken," Mr. Holmes chuckled nervously, "lighten up, buddy." Misty heard him walk away.

Misty had to know who this man was. She opened the door, stepped back into the room, saw his face, and thought, oh my God…

….

Two hours earlier…

Mewtwo looked at his reflection in the window of Pokemon Tech. Sometimes, his human form still took some getting used to.

He was well over six feet tall (Mewtwo had determined from the experience of being in Ash's body that he did not like feeling small), with pale skin and medium-length, jet-black hair. He was indistinguishable from a normal man, except, of course, his striking violet eyes.

Earlier that day, Mewtwo had rented a suit from a local formal clothing shop. He had been wearing no shoes and his only set of clothes, which was dirty and grungy, into the shop, and the woman who assisted him flirted incessantly and gave him a huge discount on the suit and dress shoes, along with a free "promotional" t-shirt with the shop's logo. From the few encounters Mewtwo had had with human females in this form, he gathered he was very attractive. He found it ironic that if any of them ever saw his true appearance, they would most likely run away in terror.

Mewtwo checked his watch (another item he had picked up for himself that day). It was 6:33 pm. The staff party would begin in twenty-seven minutes.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the door handle and stepped inside the building. There was a blond woman, perhaps 30 or 35 years old, behind the front desk. She smiled at Mewtwo. Mewtwo had heard while eavesdropping from the roof that her name was Marnie.

"Hello, sir. May I help you?"

Mewtwo looked into her eyes, and his glowed blue.

"Marnie," he imprinted in her mind, "you know who I am. You have seen me around here many times."

He made sure he fully encoded the information before he continued.

"I am the principal of the Ivory City Pokemon Tech. I am a skilled pokemon trainer." She was still mesmerized by his gaze. He finished with, "I was invited to the party tonight."

"You were invited," Marnie said, and opened a drawer behind the desk to take out a blank nametag for Mewtwo. She had her pen poised to write something down on it when she looked back at Mewtwo and asked,

"What was your name again, sir?"

Mewtwo thought for a moment. "Michael," he said.

"Oh, of course! Now I remember." She wrote, 'Michael' down on the name tag and smoothed it onto Mewtwo's suit. Mewtwo hoped the adhesive didn't damage the material; he was planning to return the suit at some point.

Mewtwo thanked her and started walking towards the staircase (the party was on the second floor). Behind him, he heard the receptionist call, "it was nice to see you again, Michael!"

"You too, Marnie," he called back, chuckling to himself. Humans.

Mewtwo climbed the stairs, running into several important members of the Pokemon Tech staff and one by one altering their memories to include "Michael", the prestigious Ivory City principal. It was just too easy. I can be anyone I wish to be, Mewtwo thought. However, there was something about manipulating people that brought back his guilt about luring those trainers to New Island eight years ago, and that turned him off wanting to do it all the time.

A few minutes later, Mewtwo was conversing with Misty's coworkers and enjoying a drink. He fit right in… almost. He impressed everyone with his extensive knowledge of pokemon (because he was a pokemon himself) and battle tactics. The whole time, however, he really only cared about finding Misty. Finally, he spotted her on the other side of the room. Appearing tired and uninterested in the party, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Mewtwo began to follow her when a large, overweight man came up behind him and began a conversation.

Although Mewtwo was usually skilled at suppressing his emotions, this man infuriated him. What an ignorant, selfish person! Mewtwo thought with anger. This man was the very antithesis of everything Mewtwo hoped to become.

The worst part was, this man might have just ruined his opportunity to see Misty— she could already be gone.

Then, to his surprise, Misty opened the door and stepped back inside.

She froze for a moment. "You," she said softly. Mewtwo nodded. "Can we… talk privately?" she asked tentatively. Mewtwo was trying to read her expression. She was definitely not having the reaction he had expected, but, then again, he still had a lot to learn before he could claim to understand human emotions. Mewtwo lead her up several flights of stairs to his favorite spot— the roof.

Mewtwo waited for Misty to begin the conversation. A long silence passed as the two just looked at each other. Finally, Misty sighed and said, "Explain."

Mewtwo didn't know what to say. He had expected her to bombard him with questions, but "explain?"? How could he even begin?

"I have been far away for many years," he said, "I have had lots of time to do as I wish."

"So you wished to become human?" Misty retaliated bitterly. "That's not what you last told me."

"I…" Mewtwo hesitated. He had thought that at least part of her would be glad to see him, but now he was doubtful.

Recomposing himself, he said rationally, "I am not human".

"Sure looks like it to me."

Mewtwo held out his hands. Watch, he communicated to her telepathically. Then, concentrating hard, he made little white hairs sprout on the backs of his hands. Slowly, the fingers became short and stubby, and the number of digits on each hand was reduced from 5 to 3. He held them up for Misty to see. She gaped.

"Mewtwo… stop! It's… unnatural…" She looked away, apparently disgusted. Mewtwo shifted his paws back into human hands. He was hurt. Deeply.

"Even after all these years," he spoke softly, "you still see me… the true me… as a monster."

Misty widened her eyes and looked at him again. "I never thought you were a monster," she said sincerely, the anger leaving her tone.

Mewtwo, again, was at a loss for words.

"Look," Misty said earnestly, "I can handle you as a human. I can handle you as a pokemon. But this… in between… It's just too weird. It freaks me out! I don't understand how you can do it!"

Mewtwo smiled. Something about her honesty and her choice of words reminded him of the Misty he had known eight years ago.

"The first time I tried was in the laboratory on New Island," he said, trying to reduce his years of hard work and practice down into a few words that Misty could understand, "I used your friend, Ash's, DNA as a template for altering mine." Mewtwo couldn't help inserting a little venom into the word, Ash's, but Misty seemed not to notice.

She looked puzzled. "If you used Ash's DNA, why do you look so different now?"

"I only used Ash's DNA the first time," he clarified, "which, to put it delicately, was an experience that could only be improved upon."

Misty appeared offended by this statement.

"No… I didn't mean… Not you," Mewtwo was becoming flustered. It always seemed to happen when he was speaking by mouth rather than telepathically; something about communicating through thoughts made him choose his words more carefully. Also, he felt emotions more intensely in human form. "It was just… learning to transform, that first time… was very painful. Physically." And changing back unexpectedly was even worse, he recalled.

Misty's eyes shined with tears. "I'm so sorry," she said, and lifted her forearm to her face as if to hide. Mewtwo gently grasped her wrist and guided it back down to her side, looking into her eyes.

"There is no reason for you to apologize," Mewtwo said. She had done nothing wrong; his transformation was his own choice. Why were humans so illogical sometimes?

Misty didn't reply, so Mewtwo continued his explanation. "After New Island, I collected hundreds of human DNA samples, and I used them… to create this," he finished, gesturing to himself.

Misty studied him from head to toe for a few moments before stating, "Unbelievable."

Mewtwo looked at her inquisitively.

"It's just that you look completely different," she explained, "I mean, you're human... but, at the same time… you look like you."

Mewtwo glowed with pride. That was exactly what his goal had been when he had created the artificial sequence.

He smiled at Misty, and she tried, and failed, to hold back a smile in return.

Misty's eyes moved to Mewtwo's nametag.

"Michael, huh?" she joked sarcastically, "As in, 'don't call me Mike'?"

"I had to disguise my identity," Mewtwo tried to explain, "to get into that party, I used my power to… persuade a few people to accept me. Do not worry; my actions had minimal effects. I just altered a few memories—"

"You're amazing," Misty said breathlessly, interrupting him. She appeared captivated by him, incessantly studying the details of his face, his hair, his body...

She peered seriously into his eyes once again. "It scares me."

Mewtwo hesitated, breathing in sharply. "You… the way you affect me… it scares me, too."

Mewtwo noticed just then that somehow, in the course of the conversation, they had unwittingly moved closer to each other. Misty's face was now just inches from his. He could hear her heart pounding.

He studied her face. Though it differed subtly from the face in his memories, he still saw it as the very definition of beauty. It was perfectly heart shaped, framed by soft auburn hair and sprinkled with freckles. Her huge, bright blue eyes were wide and her soft lips were slightly parted.

He knew exactly what he wanted at this moment… but what about Misty? Was it what she wanted? What she needed?