Chapter One - Zeta's Reminiscing
"In other news," began the news reporter, shuffling through some of her papers, "there has been another victim of Cinnabar Mansion." Behind the reporter, a picture of a young boy, with rusty brown hair, and green eyes with an ambitious air to them appeared. "The boy ventured into the building out of curiosity and no identification can be made of him. If you have any information, please call the number on your screen."
"Mm, another one. That mansion's really becoming dangerous, eh, Reki?" the watcher of the news said, looking to her side at a small, lizard-like creature that was called a Bagon. A three-fingered paw reached out to pat the Bagon's head. No attempt was made to any scritching under its chin, most likely because of the long slender glistening black claws that tipped each finger.
There was an inexplicable warping of space in front of the television, appearing as ripples on a pond, except in the air and perpendicular to the ground. It created an effect much like a fun-house mirror on the news reporter. "Well, I don't like it," said the disturbance, a disembodied voice speaking before its owner appeared, and appear he did. A black Mew-like creature had popped into existence in front of the T.V.
The clawed being waved her paw urgently. "Move, Cyro, you're blocking," she said to explain her actions.
"You and that T.V. I swear, everything the humans come up with interests you," he said glaring at a soda can on the end table next to the recliner that the addressed was sitting in.
"Hey, come on!" she said pleadingly as Cyro-Mew clicked the television off, "I was watching that!"
"You're always 'watching that.' Either that or that conglomeration of three boxes that makes the clicking noises," he said, annoyed.
"'Computer?'" asked the girl mockingly. "Yeah, yeah," he replied, before adding under his breath, "Whatever." The female snickered.
"Anyway, what do you think's the cause, Cyro?" she asked, having composed herself into a somewhat serious manner. "I don't know. These 'reporters' don't say much about causes," he said.
"Ah ha! So, you did watch it!" she said, pointing triumphantly at Cyro-Mew. "Urk! I've said too much!" he said, realizing his mistake. "I will never admit defeat!" he cried, pointing at the roof and disappearing, leaving the girl to have her laughs at him.
A few minutes later, after Cyro-Mew had regained a bit of dignity, he reappeared. "Well, what do you think is causing it then, if you're so smart?"
"I think it's Vega, in all seriousness," she declared, before attempting to corroborate her claim. "We both know what he's capable of, and this seems like his work. One of the past victim reports said the victim appeared to be 'under extreme stress' and 'frightened nearly to death.' The main thing, though, is that none of these victims die. They're all in a coma. You know he likes to torture people much longer than is necessary."
Cyro-Mew paused with a sympathetic look on his furry face. "You still dream about him, don't you?"
This scene was being watched unbeknownst to the two conversants on a strange viewing screen, created without the use of a machine, but instead a mental television of sorts manifested into a physical form. The only real difference was that the watcher could see anything he wanted, whenever he so pleased. This is one of the abilities that extremely heightened mental abilities can deliver.
"'Dream' is not the word, Dear Cyro," said a contemptuous voice, emanating from a sneering creature in the dark, illuminated dimly by the light cast by the psychic screen, yet still blending in with the blackness surrounding him. He chuckled darkly before speaking again to one who couldn't hear him. "She'll be seeing me again tonight, and the next night, and the next. Every night, ever since I got my psychic powers under control, I could bring anyone no matter who, where, or what they were to my own little world, lovingly dubbed my Room by my fellow clones and my future Victims, the scientists. I bring her to it every night. She's grown used to living two worlds: one by night, one by day." The monster brought up a second screen, this one to see the time of 6:43 P.M.. He grinned evilly and the screen dissipated. "I'll be seeing her again in around three hours," he sighed, smiling with his sharp teeth.
"Yes, I . . . I still . . . dream . . . about him," she answered finally, "Yes . . . dream, right."
"Sorry, I brought it up . . . ," Cyro-Mew apologized, rubbing his arm awkwardly. "That's all right. It's hard not to bring it up; it affected all of us," she said, relieving Cyro-Mew of his sheepish feeling. She glanced at a clock and got up from the recliner. "Let's go outside. I've got to get you," she began as she picked Reki up, "to level thirty-five. C'mon, Cyro." "Eh, sure," he agreed, floating after her as she exited through the door.
Cyro-Mew was another clone, but not of the "Mewtwo Project." He was the end result of an experiment to add the Steel and Dark type-alignments to Mew. It had resulted in a black furred, demonic-looking Mew which was "wearing" a suit of armour. He was moderately mild-tempered, but didn't approve much of what humans did on the sole basis that they had created Mewfour. He was also the only one of the four Mew clones to opt out of adopting a name other than the one bestowed upon him by the humans, which was odd considering his contempt for the race. He said it was because Mewfour had chosen his own name and that he didn't want any similarities with Mewfour if he could help it. He also concluded that it was not right to follow suit because he had not shared the psychic link that the three Mew super-clones had had while in their test tubes. They'd lived in their own little world, a world of the same type as Mewfour's Room, except controlled by all three instead of just one.
They'd given themselves names because they were all nonconformists and had thought their given names bland and uninspired. Mewtwo had labeled himself Epsilon. Mewthree had declared her name as Zeta. Mewfour took the name of Vega.
After the three escaped, they'd gone more or less berserk, attacking and killing thousands of people, until Mewfour finally pushed it past a line even the other two super-clones dared not cross: he went into the humans' minds and mentally tormented them, showing them their greatest fears and forcing them to live out them all. This reduced the human, or Victim as the other two clones called them, to a sobbing pile of flesh and bones, expending all its energy trying to escape or crying. Vega always saved the best for last, and this final blow would send the poor creature into a coma. The one of the first times he'd displayed the power, most of the Victims awoke, all of them save one or two either lived out their lives in a state of mental depression or severe insanity or ended up committing suicide. The other clones disowned Mewfour as he became more and more cruel, evil, and heartless every time he took a Victim. This was the time period that his Changes began occurring again because his power was increasing rapidly. The old phrase: "power corrupts" became so apparent in Mewfour that the other two clones finally turned on him.
Only with their joint effort were Epsilon and Zeta able to reduce Vega's power, and he finally retreated to lick his wounds. Neither of the two triumphant Mews knew where he'd fled to, but now Zeta had a pretty decent idea.
The Cinnabar Island Mansion wasn't really a mansion at all; it was where these horrifying experiments had taken place; where the clones all grew up together; where Vega made his first use of his Room, his first Victim being one of the masterminds behind his creation: Giovanni, the Rockets' leader. Giovanni went into a coma like all the future Victims would, but Mewfour was young then, and couldn't tap into the worst of Giovanni's fears and he awoke with most of his mental stability still in tact. Mewfour became convinced then that Giovanni would have to fall at his paws for him to reach his full potential; that Giovanni's murder would cause him to attain his full power, because his strength grew as he killed stronger and stronger beings.
All of this was in the past for Zeta at the moment as Reki needed training to attain its next form. This training manifested itself as a Weedle, something Reki easily downed. The training's second manifestation was a Ratatta, another simple defeat.
Zeta decided to go deeper into the forest behind her place of lodging, seeing as Reki defeated the wild creatures so easily that it would take hours just to get him to his next level of thirty-three. Deeper into the woods, she thought she would be able to raise him to thirty-five in may be an hour and a half. So, into the trees, the three went.
Zeta led the pack, pushing through the bushes and other underbrush and stopped abruptly, hearing a voice. "D'you hear that, Cyro?" she questioned quietly. "Of course, I heard it. It's just some dumb human lost in our woods again. What are you? Paranoid?" he asked jokingly. "Yes," was Zeta's sarcastic reply. "Let's go find him. Maybe he's got Pokémon for a quick Reki-level," she suggested. "You and your humans," Cyro-Mew said distastefully, before following regardless.
The trio came upon a portly middle-aged man wearing a heavy camping backpack and picking over the fallen logs and limbs with the aid of a walking stick. To Zeta's delight, there were five Pokéballs clipped to his belt.
"Hello?!" he called, "Anyone out there?! I'm lost! Can anyone help me?!" His shoulders drooped and he sighed in pseudo-despair. "I've been stuck in here for three hours. . . . My Pokémon are exhausted, I'm exhausted, and to top it all off, some dratted Mankeys stole all my provisions . . . ," he sighed, to himself, reflecting on his predicament, "Ah, such is the life of a hiker."
"You see, Zeta? Now we've here a Pokémon trainer, lost in our woods, which, I might add, has 'No Trespassing' signs posted all along the edges, and you can't even battle him because his Pokémon are tired," said Cyro-Mew in a harsh, annoyed, albeit hushed, whisper.
"Eh, shut up," said Zeta, not hushing her voice because she had been too distracted by Cyro-Mew's Peanut Gallery comments to remember. She realized her mistake. "Aw, sh--"
"Who's there?" asked the hiker, "Anyone? Help, please!"
"Now look what you did. Now he's heard us," whispered Cyro-Mew, "stupid human-loving super-clone." Zeta, out of pure zeal for recoil, caught Cyro-Mew by the tail and tossed him onto the ground near the hiker.
"Zeta! When I get my paws on y—Oh," said Cyro-Mew, looking back at the dumbfounded hiker, "Um, hello."
The hiker stared, unresponsive.
"Zeta, get your furry tail over here before he tries to catch me in one of those confounded Pokéballs!" Cyro-Mew shouted this as he stood up, and the hiker still didn't show any signs of coherent thought; he just kept staring at the spot where Cyro-Mew had fallen.
"All right, fine," said Zeta, picking her way out of the brush and into the now slightly crowded clearing that contained Cyro-Mew and the hiker. "Can't you take care of yourself, Cyro?" she asked mockingly, just before the hiker keeled over backwards upon seeing this next beast.