Chapter 11: Captive

Arcanine loosed a Flamethrower on his approach, knocking one of the far targets from it's base; the high-density, flame retardant plastic, which half an hour ago had vaguely resembled a Human head and torso, melted and slumped a little more. He swiped at the first and second targets as he passed, toppling them easily. The third target was off to the side by itself; last time, he'd dashed over to hit it, but that had cost him a few tenths of a second. He turned his head without stopping, releasing another burst of fire before he pounced on the fourth. As the fifth target fell under his heavy paw, the first skidded to a stop on the stone floor.

He hesitated briefly after the sixth. The next two targets were about the same distance; last time he'd hit the left one first. He decided to try the right one this time. The next three were almost in a straight line, and he toppled them all without pausing. Still running, he spit a final Flamethrower at the last remaining target, not slowing until it tumbled off it's base.

"Fourteen point four seconds," Meowth announced as it hit the ground.

Not bad, Arcanine thought as he walked back across the gym; a few tenths of a second off his best time, but the targets were more spread out today, requiring more zig-zagging to hit them all. He still had the quickest time by almost a second.

Some of the others were already out resetting targets, Pokemon who weren't doing the speed course this afternoon; tomorrow they would trade places, and he would help set targets while they they ran the course. That was Mewtwo's first rule, here and in everything that they did; everyone trains, and everyone works.

#Cocky,# Mewtwo chided, #you barely beat Rapidash's time, and only two seconds faster than Blastoise. You can do better.#

That wasn't really a fair comparison, Arcanine thought; Rapidash was almost as fast as he was. He could run circles around Blastoise, but Blastoise just stood at the starting line and hit them all with his cannons. Arcanine didn't say it, of course, but he didn't have to. As soon as he thought it, Mewtwo knew; maybe not the precise thoughts, but the feeling of frustration and unfainess.

Mewtwo maintained constant, background connections with all of the family, even in his sleep; not enough to read thoughts, but enough to sense strong emotion or injury. Sometimes, they could pick up on what Mewtwo was feeling as well. It was a comforting presence which he had never found intrusive. Where ever he went, what ever he did around the mountain, he was never alone. It was there, an invisible web connecting him to the rest of his family.

Beyond that basic connection, Mewtwo respected the privacy of their minds. He didn't try to pry without invitation, but he was so sensitive, and so finely attuned to their patterns of though, that at close range, he couldn't help sensing their feelings and some of their surface thoughts. Most of the time Arcanine didn't mind; he had nothing to hide. He'd never been good with words, and it was so much easier to have Mewtwo just understand what he meant than to try to find the right words to express himself. Sometimes, though, it would have been nice to be able to complain in the privacy of his own mind.

#You're getting complacent,# Mewtwo said, more sternly this time, #do it again. I want to see you under fourteen.#

The others finished resetting the targets and retreated the sidelines to watch.

"Ready?" Meowth asked.

He was confident. This was his fourth time through today. He'd gotten the pattern almost right last time, he just needed to be a bit quicker. It was only four tenths of a second; if Mewtwo thought he could do it, who was he to doubt?

"Ready," Arcanine confirmed.

His timing was off on the sixth target this time. He was sure it had been twelve paces between the fifth and sixth on the previous runs; it took him thirteen, this time, leaving him with the wrong paw forward as he passed.

"Fourteen point two," Meowth said.

#Again,# Mewtwo commanded.

Arcanine paused to examine the sixth target on the way back. It had been moved; he could see all the marks on the floor where the target had fallen on previous runs, but now it was a meter further back. That wasn't fair, Arcanine thought; he would have been on time had he not had to slow down to hit it with the other paw.

#Speed,# Mewtwo said, #not memorization. Does a real opponent stand still for you?#

Arcanine reached the starting line and sat down. He had one or two more good runs, he thought, before fatigue began to slow him down, but first, he needed to catch his breath. He would succeed this time. He wouldn't disappoint Mewtwo.

"Ready?" Meowth asked again.

"A moment," Arcanine panted.

The first and second targets rose in the purple glow of Psychic, moving further apart, and he turned to look at Mewtwo accusingly.

Mewtwo stared back, impassive.

Arcanine didn't understand. The extra distance would add at least half a second to his time; even if he ran the course perfectly, he could not possibly make fourteen seconds.

The third target lifted from the ground. Was Mewtwo punishing him for resting?

Arcanine stood hastily, glancing at Meowth. "Ready."

"Go," Meowth answered immediately; she had seen was has happening as well.

"Fourteen point eight."

That had been about as close as he could come to a perfect run, Arcanine thought as he walked back again. Mewtwo would know that, so what did Mewtwo really want from him? There was a purpose, always, for everything that their leader did, but what was it?

When he got back to the start this time, none of the targets were reset. Fourteen Pokémon in the lane slowly carried fourteen targets to whichever base was farthest away, stopping to talk as they passed. Arcanine smiled gratefully, nodding his appreciation when Sandslash and Bulbasaur looked his way.

Would Mewtwo move them again? Arcanine glanced back to see him, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a suppressed grin; he wasn't allowed to stall, then, but the others could on his behalf.

By the time they finished, he had almost caught his breath. One more good run, he thought. It wouldn't satisfy Mewtwo; fourteen seconds was fourteen seconds, but he would put on the best show he could.

"Ready?" Meowth asked.

Arcanine nodded.

This time he Flamethrowered the second target instead of running across the lane to hit it. It wouldn't save much time, if any, but it was worth a try.

"Fourteen six."

#Better,# Mewtwo said, #again.#

The break which the others provided him while they reset targets was not enough for him to get his breathing under control this time, and he knew that his times were only going to get worse from here.

"Sixteen point three."

"Seventeen point two."

"Twenty point seven."

Mewtwo watched as he ran the course, another ten times, twenty times. Some of the others, not needed there and not wanting to waste training time, went to the other side of the gym to battle in pairs.

#Arcanine,# Mewtwo said eventually, #keep practicing. Everyone else, dinner.#

There was no one to time him now, but it didn't matter; Arcanine was sure he was over thirty seconds. Replacing all the targets himself gave him a welcome break between. He didn't hurry, but he never stopped, either; that seemed consistent with Mewtwo's intentions. Mewtwo could be watching him now, psychically, and he wouldn't feel it unless Mewtwo wanted him to, but Arcanine didn't think he was. Mewtwo trusted him. Mewtwo had other duties, all of the other clones to attend to.

All Arcanine wanted was an explanation of what he'd done wrong. He wasn't the smartest Pokemon in the family, or the strongest, or the toughest, he thought, but other than Mewtwo, he was the fastest. It wasn't just his genetics; he'd spent countless hours over the last nineteen years training his reflexes. It wasn't wrong to be proud of that, was it?

As he continued to train, Arcanine allowed his frustration to grow into anger, driving back his fatigue. he felt his pace getting faster again, even as he wasted precious fractions of a second slowing to hit the targets harder than necessary.

The boost didn't last long, though. Mewtwo was a difficult Pokémon to be angry at. Mewtwo had always been there to guide them, praising their successes and chiding their failures, sympathizing with their problems and pushing them to be stronger, since those first early memories when Mewtwo's mind had touched his in the hazy pink world of the cloning tank with the promise of friendship. Mewtwo was everything to him and the rest of the family; their father and mother, their teacher, their protector, their creator. He was a god, and a god had the right to make demands of his subjects.

He limped back, stopping to reset the targets yet again. He didn't remember doing it, but somewhere along the way he had pulled a muscle in his shoulder, and it hurt with each step.

Vulpix and Vaporeon were back from dinner, waiting for him at the starting line. Vaporeon was carrying a bowl. She placed it beside him and filled it with a stream of water from her mouth.

"Thank you." Arcanine bent down to drink. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was.

Vaporeon waited for him to finish, then pushed his chin up with her muzzle, rubbing the length of her beautiful, lithe body against his throat as she passed, from her nose, down her back, and all the way to the tip of her tail. The pure, white energy of her Wish sparkled from her fine fur, surrounding both of them, and Arcanine felt the pain in his shoulder fade away.

Sandslash was there now as well. He met Arcanine's gaze without speaking; he seldom had much to say. Where Vulpix was assertive and passionate, and Vaporeon was caring and sensual, Sandslash was stoic and calm and dependable, the perfect balance to his three excitable companions.

The setting sun reached the point on the horizon where it was below their mountaintop home, casting beams of orange light across the ceiling for several minutes before dipping below the rim of the crater.

Ninetales arrived next. Wise and well-spoken, nearly as well-read as Mewtwo and among the strongest of the younger clones, she was the fifth team-member Arcanine wished he could have. Like Rapidash, she had earned her own team years ago; they followed close behind her, Wigglytuff, Meowth, and Pikachu.

Ninetales fell in beside him as he walked back to the starting line. He had long since lost count of how many times he had run the course. All of the others spread out across the lane, each taking a target and carrying it very slowly to give him and Ninetales time to talk.

"Shouldn't be here," Arcanine said, "none of you. Go enjoy the evening."

Ninetales snorted derisively. "You've been a bad doggy, and we all want to watch your punishment."

Arcanine laughed.

"Seriously, though," Ninetales continued more quietly, "What's bothering Mewtwo? He's been so intense the last few weeks..."

"Don't know," Arcanine said, shaking his head, "feel it too, though."

Ninetales sighed. "If anyone knew, it would be you."

"Ninetales, " Arcanine said, changing the subject, "he said I was cocky and complacent this afternoon. Was I?"

"Slightly," Ninetales confirmed, "happens every time we do the speed course; most of us can't even come close to your times."

"Don't mean to," Arcanine said.

"We know. You're one of the best; maybe the best, if you didn't have a type disadvantage to Blastoise."

That wasn't really true, Arcanine thought; though typing and his Flash Fire against Charizard made matches between the four elder clones difficult, he thought they were all roughly equal.

"And, well," Ninetales was still saying, "you don't brag about it, and you're always eager to help he rest of us, but...you do show off sometimes."

The targets were all ready, and Ninetales stepped out of the way. The stopwatch was still on the table where Meowth had left it; none of them saw any purpose in timing him now.

Fine, then, Arcanine thought; he couldn't be angry at Mewtwo if Mewtwo was right. It was his own fault for being too proud.

The heat of fire in his throat, the feel of the targets yielding under his paws and the clatter as they met the stone floor were cathartic, and Arcanine allowed himself to become lost in his renewed anger. The others, sensing his mood, began to replace the targets quickly again. He ran through the course over and over without pause, allowing the burning in his chest as he panted for breath and the aching of his legs to become part of his penance.

When Arcanine stopped to look around again, it was dark, save the pale moonlight which shown in through the windows above. The ache in his left hindleg was suddenly an intense pain stabbing up his calf and thigh with each step. Several claws on his right forepaw were broken, leaving smears of blood on the floor, visible only as slightly darker patches in the dim light. He wondered how he had failed to notice earlier.

On the sideline, Vaporeon leapt to her feet when she saw that he had paused, a worried expression on her face.

"Arky, wait! Let me take care of that!"

Vaporeon rushed over to him, Vulpix right behind her.

"We tried to stop you before," Vulpix said, "but I don't think you even heard us."

"I'm sorry," Arcanine said, "how late is it?"

Vaporeon rubbed alongside him, Wish sparkling from her fur again, and the pain faded to a tired soreness.

"Almost eleven. We've all been taking shifts with your targets"

"All?" Arcanine finally raised his head, looking around the training hall. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but almost all of the family appeared to be present. Several mattresses had been brought in, and most of them lay in clusters along the length of the course, sleeping or watching.

Arcanine sighed, the last of his anger draining away. He couldn't remain angry with so many good friends here to support him.

"That's right, Arky," Vulpix said, "if you weren't so busy feeling sorry for yourself, you'd have noticed that the entire family was here to watch you hurt yourself. Now, can we go to bed?"

Arcanine wanted nothing more than to curl up right there on the floor with the rest of his team, but he couldn't. Mewtwo knew he was still here, training. If Mewtwo wanted him to stop, he would have said so.

"Vulpix, I'm so grateful that you all came to help, but it's not necessary-"

"Arky, don't be dense. If we weren't here, we'd all still know you were down here hurting yourself because you're too dumb to quit."

Arcanine had no energy left for anger; he was going on sheer stubbornness now. His fire was long since exhausted, and lifting a paw to strike the targets as he passed seemed like too much effort, so he simply walked into them, letting the mass of his shoulders push them over, then turned around and plodded back to the beginning to do it again.

He let his mind wander as he trained. He was so fortunate to have such a wonderful, loving family, with a strong, caring leader like Mewtwo to protect them. They had the opportunity to study anything they wanted, to train under one of the world's strongest and smartest Pokemon, the purest water in the world, and thousands of square kilometers of mountain and jungle to explore and hurt and gather their food.

The rest of the world wasn't like that at all, he thought; the Humans they saw on television were always angry and hateful, arguing and fighting and killing each other while they poisoned themselves with drugs and dirty water and contaminated food and competed to outbreed each other in their filthy cities. Their Pokémon were servile and frightened and barely sapient. Occasionally some of the clones traveled down the mountain and watched the Human travelers at the hostels at either end of the road through the jungle. Even these, vacationers and researchers and climbers, were constantly bickering, and smelled of illness and anger.

Wild Pokémon, the truly wild ones, not the half-domesticated ferals living off the Human's detritus, had more freedom than the family had, but the constant worry about predators and Human hunters. They had no opportunity for education, no access to the vast store of knowledge Humans had amassed.

Even the Humans that Mewtwo had invited to battle them on Cinnabar had been rude and angry. Nurse Joy had been nice, though; they had all missed her when Mewtwo sent her home. Did Mewtwo still miss her, Arcanine wondered; probably so. They'd been close, and Mewtwo didn't forget easily.

The unexpected presence of a pair of grey-furred legs in his path brought him up short. As he looked up to find Mewtwo staring down at him, it took Arcanine several seconds to remember where he was and why.

#Enough, old friend.#

Mewtwo sounded exhausted, Arcanine thought, as if it had been Mewtwo instead of himself training all night. Perhaps he had been, somewhere outside, or meditating in his office. While it must be wonderful to constantly feel all of the family around him, Arcanine thought, it must be a burden, too, at times like tonight. All night, Mewtwo had had to feel his frustration, his anger, his exhaustion, and the discomfiture of the others. It wasn't just Mewtwo, either; he'd wasted the night for everyone. Vulpix was always sassy, and when she had called him selfish earlier, he hadn't thought she meant anything by it; perhaps she hadn't, but she was still right.

"Mewtwo, I'm sorry."

Mewtwo's hand rested on Arcanine's shoulder, and instinctively he leaned into it.

#So am I. I think we're both too stubborn for our own good. Have Wigglytuff or Vaporeon fix you up, and go get some sleep.# Mewtwo looked around at the assembled clones. #And all of you, after you finish your chores, take the day off.#

The warm morning sun felt wonderful on his sore muscles. Vaporeon was an excellent healer and probably better educated than many Human physicians, but some things could only really be cured by time and rest. He worked the end of the Gogoat femur between him molars, shaving off cartilage and bone bit by bit. He wasn't hungry any more, but the repetitive motion of gnawing was relaxing. Perched between his shoulder blades, Vulpix was still eating. He could feel the blood and saliva soaking into his fur. Vulpix knew that he didn't like when she did that; it had to be petty revenge for keeping her up all night.

"Making a mess up there," Arcanine grumbled.

He didn't care, really. The breeze was pleasant. Rhyhorn's and Nidoqueen's cubs played on the shoreline below, under the watchful eyes of their parents and some of the other clones, their laughter drifting up to them on the ledge where they lay.

"If you don't like it, move," Vulpix said, "I was here first."

Arcanine began to laugh, but it turned into a yawn.

"You can wash off later. We have a whole lake to bathe in, remember? It isn't even salty like at Cinnabar."

"You had this much fur, wouldn't like saltwater either."

Vaporeon and Sandslash, leaned against his left flank, were already done eating, and were busy licking each other clean. Sandslash preferred not to eat meat, but he wasn't squeamish about the rest of the team's diet.

"Arky, Vappy and I have been talking."

Vulpix turned in circles several times before settling down in his mane to clean herself. That would be more tangles to get out later, Arcanine thought.

"We both want to have cubs of our own."

Arcanine set his bone aside. There had always been a taboo against reproduction in the family, particularly since the Pokémon who had been cloned less than fully evolved found themselves unable to evolve further. They all had excellent genetics, taken from champions around the world, and Mewtwo had cultured hundreds of embryos in vitro from each of their species and selected only the single best to grow to maturity. None of them, however, were pure species. Mewtwo had needed to substitute certain sequences in their genomes with his own DNA, Mew's DNA, to give them the resilience to endure the cloning process.

They were all exemplars of their species, the strongest and toughest and fastest, but no one had been sure whether they would breed true, or at all.

Mewtwo had never made a rule against it, or even tried to discourage them, but no one wanted to be the first to find out, or to disrupt the harmony of the family with new members. In the fourteen years since the younger clones had emerged from their tanks, there had not been a single egg, despite the family's promiscuity.

Now that Nidoqueen and Rhyhorn had broken the taboo, and their cubs seemed healthy and normal and Nidorans and Rhyhorns, everyone else was envious, and anxious to make up for lost time.

"What if they can't evolve either?" Arcanine asked.

"Arky, you know how bad I want to evolve."

Arcanine nodded

"But even if I never can, I'm still glad Mewtwo made me, and we're all here together."

Arcanine knew he couldn't argue with that, so he didn't try. "Who'll be the father?"

It wasn't an unreasonable question. There weren't really any exclusive pairings among the family, even if most of them had favorites; most of them had, at some point, at least experimented with all the others.

Vulpix leaned forward to nip Arcanine's ear. "You and Sandslash, of course."

"And?"

"We didn't want to pick," Vaporeon explained, "so next time we're in heat, we both want to mate with both of you."

"Everyone starts having cubs," Arcanine said, "not going to have room on the island."

"Arky, everyone else is trying for cubs whether we do or not. Pidgeot already has two eggs. You know Mewtwo and Venosaur are already making plans to excavate more levels, and even Mewtwo knows we can't hide here forever."

Maybe that was why the idea of cubs made him uncomfortable, Arcanine thought; in the nine years that they'd been here, they had all established a comfortable routine; training and studying and working and exploring the jungle, sleeping together in a jumble in the library and not worrying too much about Team Rocket finding them after all this time. He liked thing the way they were. The family wasn't perfect, the world wasn't perfect, but it was pretty good, and he didn't want anything to change.

The conversation apparently ended, Arcanine allowed his eyes to drift closed, luxuriating in the warmth of the sun and the bodies pressed against him. Whatever he said, he was sure that Vulpix and Vaporeon would remember him having agreed. They were right, of course. Living things reproduced, they adapted, or they went extinct; normal Pokémon had cubs, even Humans had cubs, and there was no sense in choosing to be left behind.

Arcanine woke to Vaporeon's tail tapping against his hip; he couldn't have been asleep long, he though, the sun hadn't moved perceptibly in the sky. He raised his head and looked over to see what she wanted. She was no longer leaning against him, but stretched out on the ground beside him.

Nestled between the two of them, Sandslash lay on his back, eyes closed and a distant, pained expression on his face as the claws on one hand stroked slowly along the long diagonal scar across his belly. Arcanine didn't ask what was troubling him; he already knew, and Sandslash wouldn't have answered anyway. It wasn't that Sandslash was any less emotional than the rest of them, Arcanine knew, he just didn't show them any more.

Arcanine wriggled over onto his side, ignoring Vulpix's complaints as she was forced to move from her perch between his shoulders. He wrapped a foreleg around around Sandslash, pulling him against his chest. For a moment Sandslash looked annoyed, then he relaxed, curling up into a ball against Arcanine. The protruding plates on Sandslash's back weren't sharp, but they still poked uncomfortably against his ribs. It was a minor discomfort, and Arcanine chose to ignore it; Sandslash needed him now, just like he had needed Sandslash and all of the others' last night. Vaporeon leaned over to rest her head on Sandslash's side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The room smelled of damp concrete and urine and despair. Arcanine's back felt as if he had a dozen sets of teeth clamped around his spine. There was an odd sensation of tingling numbness in his legs and paws, and his head pounded like he'd been focus punched by a Machop. Judging by the rotten taste in his mouth, Arcanine thought he'd been unconscious for a day or more.

Arcanine opened his eyes, and found that he was still unable to see. It was pitch dark, and nearly silent, except for the quiet movement of air. He could barely feel the heat of his fire within; it must be an aftereffect of whatever they had drugged him with to keep him unconscious so long. Filling his lungs, he managed a brief flicker of flame. The cell was barely large enough for him to move around in, about two meters on a side, with concrete walls and a solid steel door.

Gently, he attempted to move his forelegs, and then his hindlegs, and then opened his jaws; he was no longer bound, but he was so stiff that he could barely move. Carefully, a centimeter at a time, he straightened his back, wondering again what he had done to earn all those scars.

He raised his head slowly to look around, the muscles of his neck twitching and aching in protest. Above him, in the ceiling or high in the wall, there was a faint, cool, rectangular glow which might have been moonlight shining through a window. It was too dim to provide any actual illumination.

Another flicker of fire showed him that his injuries from the morning before were healing well. The remaining bandages had been removed while he was unconscious, and his dried blood washed away, and only shorter patches of fur and lingering pains showed where the wounds had been. That much healing took a lot of energy and nutrition, and despite the meal which Aromatisse and Absol had provided, he was ravenous.

Were Zorua, Luxray and Riolu alright back in Meadow Town? He didn't care about any of the other Pokemon there, but he knew that they did, and if the Ice-types returned, they would fight, no matter how hopeless the situation. He had been overconfident. He had been too long hiding in that cave, doing safe, easy dungeons, fighting mindless ferals. He should have been more careful. He should be there to protect them.

Though he had no way to measure time, it took Arcanine what felt like several hours of careful stretching and rolling on the floor before he could stand and pace around the cell. Everything still hurt, but it was tolerable, now. The window was firmly out of reach, even had he been limber enough to stretch out to his full length. Along the wall furthest from the door there was a channel in the floor. The concrete was wet around it, and it smelled like the urine and feces of a score or more different species. There was a small opening in wall at either end, too small to be of use to Pokémon his size, but large enough for something to flow through; a flush toilet, he thought, spanning however many cells were along this wall.

What had Aromatisse said? Walls made by Gurdurr and Concluder, enchanted so that moves couldn't break them? This must be Treasure Town, then. He could test the walls later, when his strength had returned. He was sure he had known other Pokémon somewhere who were as strong as he, and even stronger, but in the time that he could remember here, he hadn't met any. With enough force, everything broke, and with enough heat, everything melted or burned.

Arcanine exercised for another hour or two. There wasn't really even enough room in the cell to pace properly; two steps took him from one wall to the opposite wall. He counted out fifty small loops clockwise, then turned around and did fifty more counterclockwise. He stopped in the middle of the room and stretched everything he could think to stretch, then returned to pacing.

He couldn't feel his fire returning yet, and that was worrisome. He was fully alert and as awake as he could get without space to run, and whatever they'd drugged him with should have worn off by now. He filled his lungs and tried a Flamethrower, achieving a tongue of flame about a foot long, and so brief that he wasn't sure it would have set fire to paper.

Maybe Aromatisse had been halfway right about the cells, he thought; maybe Pokémon couldn't break free with moves not because the cells were enchanted to resist them, but because Team Magnezone had some method to prevent their use. Was it an enchantment on the cells? Were there herbs here that could suppress a Pokémon's powers like that? He had a vague memory that in whatever other place he had come from, there were, but he couldn't recall any further details.

Should he try breaking the door down with physical force, Arcanine wondered. He knew he was physically strong, even without his powers, and he weighed a considerable amount, but the door felt sturdy. If he did batter his way out, it would be noisy, and could he beat whatever guards might be outside with only his fangs and claws, and his remaining injuries?

Struggling against Team ACT's ropes yesterday, or however many days ago it had been now, hadn't accomplished anything but hurting himself further. As much as Arcanine wanted to act, he decided that it would be better to wait.

After another hour or two of pacing, Arcanine was out of patience. He illuminated the cell with another brief flame, confirming the location of the door, and lunged, throwing all of his weight against it. The door rattled, but didn't budge. He backed up the two steps to the opposite wall, blew another flame to check his aim, and tried again.

"Don't you think we've all tried that, already?" Arcanine heard a voice through the door. He could hear the hopelessness in her voice, over the metallic distortion of the doors between them.

He stopped. He wasn't accomplishing anything anyway.

"Who are you?" Arcanine asked.

"Electrike."

Now that he was still, Arcanine could hear more clearly. The voice was coming in at the bottom of the door.

"Who are you?"

"Arcanine."

He bent down to examine the door, letting out another brief bust of flame. There was a gap at the bottom, maybe two centimeters wide, through which he could feel a slight breeze flowing inward. Above it there was a slot it the door, like a mail slot, covered on the outside.

"What did you do?" Electrike asked.

"What?" he alternated between pressing his ear to the crack to hear better, and his muzzle, so that hopefully Electrike could hear him more clearly.

"Why are you here?"

Arcanine didn't know where to begin. There was nothing to hide, now, but he didn't know which parts of the story were important. He wasn't sure how much he trusted his own memory of what had happened.

"Sorry," Electrike said after a pause, before Arcanine could gather his thoughts, "it's okay if you don't want to talk about it."

There was silence for several minutes before she continued.

"Lycanroc and Glameow and I tried to open a shop without a license," Electrike said.

Arcanine understood the words, but he didn't understand what they had to do with the question. "A license?"

For a moment, Electrike didn't answer.

"You've not from around here, are you?"

"No," Arcanine said.

"We're not either," Electrike said, "we were Team Fang. We did a lot of exploring; nowhere very difficult, but we were lucky, and we had a few bags of orbs and stuff. We had a close call with some Onix in Magma Cavern, and had to badge for help; the rescue team brought us to Treasure Town. You still there?"

Arcanine began to nod, then caught himself. Electrike couldn't see him, of course. "Yeah. Still here"

"We decided to quit exploring while we were ahead. We were all impressed with Treasure Town; all the people and houses, all the explorers, and everyone seemed to have lots of Poké, but there were only a few shops, and the prices were terrible. We decided we could start our own shop; get rid of all the items we didn't need any more, and help out new teams who couldn't afford the Keckleon's prices."

"We put a blanket out on the grass by the road east of town, and set out a bunch of items. For a few hours, we thought we'd found our purpose in life. It was a nice day. We sold a few things, and bought a few things; Lycanroc and I were shy, but Glameow had fun haggling with the customers. Lycanroc's great at numbers, so he kept track of the money, and I kept an eye on the customers."

"Four Magnemites came by at lunch time. They demanded fifty thousand Poké for a 'business license'. We though it was a joke or something; we weren't in anyone's territory. They came back the next morning, Magnezone and a dozen Magnemites, and attacked us. I tried to fight them so the others could get away; they couldn't get close to me with Charge and Discharge. Lycanroc escaped, I think. I don't know what happened to Glameow."

Electrike fell silent.

"How long have you been here?" Arcanine asked.

"What's the date?"

Arcanine answered with the date. "Approximately; not sure how long I was unconscious."

"Seven months?" Electrike answered, her voice trailing up at the end as if it were a question instead of a statement.

Since Electrike had volunteered her story, Arcanine thought, it was only fair that he reciprocate. He still wasn't sure where to begin, so he started at the beginning of his memory.

"About five years ago," Arcanine began, "woke up in the mountains east of Treasure Town. Didn't remember anything; where I was, how I got there, who I was, but I had wounds all over. Think I wandered for a few weeks before I found a road and followed it to Treasure Town.

"Everything was different here than...wherever I came from. Different customs, food. Same language, mostly, but everyone talked different. Didn't know what a mystery dungeon was. People were afraid of me, no one would explain anything. Eventually, met a team who seemed friendly; Snover, Bagon, and Gilgar."

"Team Rogue," a different voice offered.

"Yes. They explained mystery dungeons to me. Somewhat. Hired me to find some crystal in Crystal Crossing. When I stepped through the door and everything went weird, had no idea what was happening. Found one, though, and brought it back."

"You did Crystal Crossing alone?" a low, gravelly voice asked, "your first mystery dungeon?"

"Yeah."

"How did it go?" the same voice again.

Arcanine laughed. "Was terrified. First because the entrance disappeared, then because I didn't know what was wrong with all the Pokémon, later because I thought I might not find a way out. Wasn't too hard, though, once I started to understand the rules."

"That's pretty impressive, for your first go. Oh, I'm Krokorok. I murdered someone."

There was not the slightest bit of contrition in his voice, Arcanine thought; in fact, Krokorok sounded proud of it. Arcanine didn't care; it was probably no one he'd known, and he was certainly in no position to judge.

"Wait," another voice interrupted, "five years ago?"

"Yes"

"And you had all those scars on your back?"

"Yes"

"I remember you."

"Anyone who's lived in Treasure Town long enough knows who he is," Krokorok said, "some of you probably hunted him, too."

"No, I actually met him! I'm Zebstrike now, but I was Blitzle then, with the broken cart. You helped me pull it back to town, but I didn't have anything to pay you after the bandits robbed me. The harness looked so painful on your back, but you never complained..."

"I'm sorry," Arcanine said, "I remember pulling a cart, but I don't remember you. There's a lot I don't remember, I think."

"It's okay," Zebstrike said, "I'll always remember."

He hadn't thought about it before, but there were probably lots of Pokemon here in Treasure Town who each remembered a little bit about his early days here. Perhaps, once he escaped, he could find them and talk to them, and they could help him piece together some of his incomplete memories.

"Thank you."

"Thank me? I never did pay you for your help..."

"Glad I did something memorable here besides start fires," Arcanine said.

No one spoke for a moment.

"Anyway," Arcanine continued, "got back to Treasure Town and gave Snover the crystal. We were by the bridge in the market. They laughed at me and refused to pay, so I knocked him out to take the crystal back. Soon as I hit him, half-dozen Magnemites came out of the bushes all around, screeching and flashing their lights. Didn't know how strong they were, so I Heat Waved and ran. You probably remember the rest better than I do."

"You're not the first Pokémon Team Rogue has robbed," Krokorok said, "and Team Magnezone's never done a thing to stop them. A million Poké is a million Poké, but a lot of teams wouldn't have been so eager to hunt you if they'd known."

"They nearly got Bidoof from Wigglytuff Guild killed in Wish Cave, not long before you came," Zebstrike added.

"Pokémon who captured me said I killed five people here," Arcanine said, "but I only remember a pair of Magnemites. Who else did I kill?"

"Team Rogue," someone said; Arcanine thought it was the same voice who had named them earlier.

"Oh." That made sense, Arcanine thought, even if he didn't remember. It was probably their bag and badge he had been carrying for the last five years. "Who are you?"

"Stoutland, Team Guardian...formerly."

"How did you survive?" Zebstrike asked, "when they didn't find a body, everyone assumed you drowned and washed out to sea."

"Swam."

"You swam through those rapids? A Fire-type?"

"Swam almost back to Treasure Town," Arcanine said, "didn't think anyone would search that far."

"No one did." Krokorok said.

After Arcanine had finished, several other Pokémon shared their own stories. It was a strange conversation, blind in the darkness and shouting through their doors to be heard. It was difficult to keep track of speakers when everyone's voice had the same metallic timbre, but he thought he could pick out at least a dozen Pokémon.

As he listened, Arcanine grew angrier and angrier. While some of his fellow prisoners seemed to be legitimate criminals like Krokorok, others, like Electrike, had harmed no one; they'd taken jobs outside the guild, or tried to open their own shops, or claimed territory near town without paying Team Magnezone.

He thought he could see what was happening, even if the others couldn't. Electrike and the other innocent Pokémon seemed to suffer from some instinctual guilt, as if the fact that they were imprisoned meant that they must have done something wrong. They weren't dumb, he thought, it was an instinctive bias. Pokémon were cooperative by nature, rather than manipulative, and it was easier to assume that they had done something wrong individually than that the whole town was wrong.

"There are a lot of Pokémon in Treasure Town," Arcanine said, "why hasn't anyone stopped Magnezone?"

For several minutes, no one answered; then Krokorok spoke.

"There are a lot of them too; at least a dozen Magnemites," he said, "and they have Wigglytuff Guild to back them up. It's mostly Pokémon who are new in town who have trouble with Team Magnezone. They come to Treasure Town, and they're impressed by the size, the organization, by how much money the guild teams throw around. They think they can get in on the action; they don't understand that the Guild, and the licensed merchants, seem so successful because there's no competition, and the prices are so high because Team Magnezone and the Guild are taking most of their revenue."

"That's what happened to us," Electrike confirmed.

"The Pokemon who live here, they know the rules," Krokorok continued, "most of them have some connection to the Guild, or the Kecleons, or Duskull, or one of the other licensed merchants. They're okay with the situation, and they're not going to risk themselves for outsiders."

If the light in the window above had been moonlight before, Arcanine thought, it ought to be brighter now. It hadn't changed. His exercise and their conversation had taken long enough that if it had been night when they brought him in, it should be morning now. Maybe it wasn't a window at all, but an orb, or some sort of luminous crystal; but then, what was it's purpose?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Where was Mewtwo?

The airships had been circling the lake for hours, since just before dawn, like Mandibuzz waiting for someone to die. Although Mewtwo hadn't said anything before he left, none of them had any doubt about who was on board, or why they were here.

There was nothing else of value on Mount Quena; no mineral resources, nothing of interest to Humans, besides a few hardy climbers and adventure - seekers and biologists. Nothing but Mewtwo himself; that was why he had chosen it.

So why had he gone out to parley with them, Arcanine wondered. He knew that the others were thinking the same thing; they were out of range of Blastoise's cannons from here, but not out of range of Mewtwo's mind. Why had he not torn them from the sky when they first arrived, dashed them on the rocks like so many training targets?

Vaporeon shifted nervously, perched on a boulder beside him. Many of the others were there too, watching and wondering and worrying.

"What's happening? You don't think they've captured him, do you?"

Arcanine shook his head. "Be gone by now if they had."

Or they would be attacking the island already, to kill or capture the rest of them. Arcanine didn't think that the rest of the clones were valuable in their own right, but they were a scientific novelty; they might be worth something for research. Giovanni might just want to tie up loose ends.

As Mewtwo was their god, so too was Giovanni Mewtwo's. Perhaps, despite all that he had done, Mewtwo still felt a need to seek Giovanni's approval? A fascination with his strength, the Human strength of forcing others to serve him?

A light flashed, once, on the belly of each airship, clearly visible even in the bright morning sun. It was clearly coordinated, Arcanine thought, but what did it mean? Was it some sort of signal? For a few seconds, all of them stared.

"Incoming!" Pikachu shouted from his perch atop Blastoise's head, "use Protect!"

Too late. There was an awful screaming whistle and a deafening crack, felt more than heard, and the world went silent. Instantly the air around them was filled with dust and smoke, a thick yellow-brown cloud blinding him and stinging in his nostrils. Arcanine felt stinging impacts against his back and sides. It didn't hurt much; it must have just been debris, he thought, rocks and dirt thrown up by the explosions.

Arcanine couldn't remember what direction he had been facing. He couldn't see anything through the haze of dust. Where was Vaporeon? She'd been on the rock right beside him.

Meowth appeared through the dust in front of him, ears back and eyes wide with fear. Her mouth was moving, but Arcanine could hear nothing.

Deaf and unable to smell and nearly blind, he felt along the ground with his nose and forepaws where Vaporeon had to be. There, something soft, a foreleg, a body, Vaporeon's fine blue fur brown with dust. She wasn't moving.

"Vaporeon!" Arcanine shouted; at least, he thought he was shouting. There was no sound at all, not even his own voice.

He lifted her by the nape, as gently as he could, and looked around. The dust was already clearing, and he could see the well-worn trail leading down to the cavern complex. Vaporeon was light, and it wasn't much effort to carry her. With his head held high, Arcanine knew from years of experience that he was tall enough that only her tail would drag on the ground, but trying to hold her limp body steady and avoid battering her against the rocks forced him to slow to a trot.

Rhyhorn was in front of him, limping on an injured leg. Arcanine's hearing was just beginning to return when again came the whistling scream. Quickly he used Protect, pushing the field outward to surround Rhyhorn as well. The volley exploded on the rocks around them, but Arcanine didn't slow or flinch as debris sparked off the blue field of energy protecting them.

Of course Pikachu was the first to understand what was happening, Arcanine thought; he had all those books about Human wars and tactics, and on the occasional evening that they watched television together instead of reading, he was always at the front, watching raptly, if there were Humans fighting.

Something felt warm and wet on his back and sides, and down his throat and forelegs, but he didn't want to look. He hoped it was his own blood, rather than Vaporeon's, but there was nothing to be done about it now, until they were safely inside. He fed more energy into Protect, not trusting himself to hear the next volley in time to react. Maintaining it like that would drain him quickly, but they only needed to make it to shelter.

He caught up to Rhyhorn, wincing in sympathy each time he felt Vaporeon's body bump against the rocks along the trail, and allowed the field of Protect to shrink so that it was just large enough to contain the three of them.

Another volley hit, lower down on the side of the mountain. Had some of the others made it to the entrance there? He hoped they had made it safely inside, but there was nothing he could do for them, until Vaporeon and Rhyhorn were safe.

The three of them rounded a boulder, and finally the darkness of the cave entrance loomed around them. Blastoise, Meowth, and Pikachu were already there, staring at him with eyes wide with shock and adrenaline They were all bloody, and covered in dust. Gently, Arcanine lay Vaporeon's limp body on the ground, then raised his head to look at the others.

"Find Wigglytuff," Arcanine said.

No one moved; they were all still staring at him, the same horrified expression on all of their faces. Arcanine knew he was injured, but it couldn't be that bad, could it? He was still walking; he had had worse injuries many times in training.

"Find Wigglytuff," he repeated.

No, Arcanine realized, they weren't staring at him; they were staring at Vaporeon, on the ground at his feet. Arcanine looked down. The face was almost Vaporeon's; the same face he had loved for fifteen years, but something was missing now; her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. Her shoulders and chest and forelegs were unrecognizable, caked in red-brown mud. Below that, there was nothing. A single muddy ribbon trailed back the way they had come, between Arcanine's paws and out through the entrance behind him.

"Pikachu," Blastoise said, "find Wigglytuff. Meowth, stay with Arcanine. I'm going to check the lower entrance."

Arcanine didn't want to stay here; the others needed help. He tried to follow them. His legs didn't seem to remember how to walk. He took a step, found himself off balance, tried to correct, took another step. The floor wasn't where he expected it to be, and suddenly he was looking up Meowth's worried face. It wasn't fair, Arcanine thought. Vaporeon was the best of them; not the strongest, but the kindest, the gentlest, the most caring, the one who most deserved to be happy and alive. She couldn't just be gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Arcanine woke to the heavy clang of iron on iron. It was still totally dark in his cell, and he had no idea how long he had been asleep. The dream was more vivid in his mind than it usually was when he woke, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of sorrow and loss.

He and the others, the ones who were always in his dreams but whom he could never remember, were on a mountain, waiting for something. Great flying creatures came, attacking them with fire and steel from the sky. Were they Pokémon or machines? He didn't know.

A gentle, blue-furred face looked up at him, bloodied and still in death. He focused on the face, trying to recognize...him? Her? Vaporeon, he thought. He knew it was someone he had loved, someone he would have given anything to protect, but he had failed.

He rehearsed it over and over, trying to fix the details in his memory before they slipped away like they always did. The sound came again, perhaps slightly closer, and again and again. The slot at the bottom of his door slid open. Flashing red and blue lights, blindingly bright in the darkness, obscured his vision of what must have been the hallway outside. A silhouette of something was pushed through into his cell, and it slammed shut.