Title: The Pikachu Project

If you're thinking of sicking your lawyers on me, look to chapter one for a disclaimer.

Author's Notes: (Important)

Some of the reviewers of the last chapter were confused about the matter of Miyamoto being alive or dead at the time of this fic. I had intended on making this a bit clearer, but nonetheless I'm going to break down something of a timeline for all you lovely reviewers so that you can hopefully understand the time sequence a bit better. So, here goes nothing:

According to the Japanese anime and CD Drama, Miyamoto died under the command of Madame Boss, who at the time was of course still under the rule of the Team Rocket organization. At this time, Musashi (Jessie) was currently around the age of nine, and soon after her mother's death was taken by Team Rocket, seeing as Miyamoto served as such a wonderful agent. Musashi then persuaded Madame Boss to let her attend nursing school, which she later failed miserably. She then was sent off to Pokemon Technical, a school for aspiring Pokemon Trainers. By this time, Giovanni had already been given Team Rocket by his mother, Madame Boss, and is when "The Pikachu Project" is taking place. So during this fanfic, she is eleven years old; therefore, since there is a difference of seven years between Musashi and Satoshi (Ash), this would make Satoshi around the age of four of five at the time of this fic.

The reason I brought Miyamoto up in the last chapter was so that the readers could hopefully get a time of when this was taking place, and more importantly the age of some of the main characters, which will be used in later chapters.

So… was that as confusing as I think it might have been? So, to be short and sweet: Jessie's eleven, Ash is four or five, and Miyamoto is dead at the time of this fic.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter of "The Pikachu Project," and I really do love all of you. Your reviews mean a lot to me. Hugs all around!

"I hate the things that I do when I'm nervous, like cleaning the oven and checking my tires. Or counting all the tiles in the ceiling..." -- Everything Is Alright

The Pikachu Project

By: Tear22

Chapter Three: Cold Blood

"No…. Why am I thinking this?" Dr. Craig asked himself, placing the tip of his chin on the edge of his keyboard and then began to repeatedly run his soiled hands through his hair, pressing firmly on his skull with each repeated circle of his head.

It had been one week since the disappearance of Pikachu, and the topic of the entire organization was on Dr. Craig, and, Giovanni's surprising disappearance. After the Boss' second day of absence everyone began to panic, but after a forced calm was set on them by the Elites, everyone turned rather to Dr. Craig's blunder and blamed him for their employer's absence.

"It's that scientist's fault, you know," he had heard one of the Grunts dramatically reencounter every detail of Pikachu's escape to some younger Dan'in who all were huddled respectively in front of her. She was sitting on one of the laundry room's washing machines, while the others repeatedly twisted their hands around the material of their dirty laundry as the uniforms in the machine whirled feverishly. "He was the one that lost it, and now the coward's been locked up in his office for days," she said vividly gesturing toward the hallway. "That has to be why the Boss has been gone."

It was true that the Boss' disappearance seemed directly tied to the loss of Pikachu, even Dr. Craig admitted that, but he continued to ignore the strong urge to try and contact the Boss.

"This isn't my fault… it's not my fault," he reassured himself, once again swiftly rearranging the dull pencils placed on his desk. He then weaved his hands in and out of scraps of paper, all of which had hurriedly drawn Pikachu on them.

"It has to be here," he muttered, ruffling through several days' worth of newspapers, barely noticing that his hands twitched with every few turns of the paper. His hands abruptly stopped as a picture of a Pikachu flashed in front of him, indicating that that was the newspaper he was looking for.

"This is it," he whispered, smoothing the crumbled paper out on the area that wasn't littered with scraps and remaining assortments of food he had surprisingly acquired from Eric, who stopped by twice a day with food once realizing that Dr. Craig was refusing to leave his office again.

Dr. Craig's eyes flicked impatiently as he scanned the newspaper over the edge of his wire rim glasses. He slowly brought his thumb to his tongue and licked it, and placing the inked page between his thumb and index finger, gradually turned the page, making sure he took in every detail of the article.

"This is too much exposure for the team," he thought to himself, brushing his finger against the large picture of a Pikachu on the next page, sparks emitting from its crimson cheeks and its tail raised defensively.

The caption plastered above the image read, "DANGEROUS, WILD POKEMON: POSSIBLY BRED ILLEGALLY IN CAPTIVITY."

"This can't be good," he sighed. He stood up, and, brushing off the remaining crumbs from his previously eaten cookie, placed the newspaper faced down on the chair and proceeded to maneuver around the few piles of papers and clothes scattered on the carpeted floor and reached the wall opposite him, and placing his pencil between his pale fingers, dug the pencil into the wall, allowing the tip to break as he made another slash mark, making the darkened line considerably even with the others. He stood back slightly to examine his work, tapping his finger against the wall as he counted out seven pencil markings.

"It's the seventh day. Pikachu's been missing for seven days," he whispered to himself as he heard a sharp knocking on his door. Nearly entangling his foot with a piece of dirty clothing, he managed to reach the door, open it, and found Eric with a tray of food placed unevenly in his hands.

"Here's some dinner," Eric said, stepping into Dr. Craig office and with a mildly alarmed expression on his face asked, "What the heck happened here?"

Although on any other occasion Dr. Craig would have most likely scolded Eric for not addressing him as sir, he was in no condition to complain. And even though Eric had been here no more than a few hours ago, the room had gotten considerably messier since his last visit.

"You should consider cleaning this place up a bit. It's not like you don't have any free time on your hands," Eric commented, stepping into the scientist's room as he forced the tray into Dr. Craig's soiled hands.

"How bad is it out there?" Dr. Craig asked, slightly placing the hurriedly made turkey sandwich between his pale lips and lightly moistening the bread with the tip of his tongue.

"It's like a living Hell," Eric sighed, slumping down onto a paper-covered chair, making him appear slightly taller. "But some of us are taking the Boss' absence as an excuse to party," he said, pulling out what suspiciously looked like a piece of confetti from his mass of blonde hair, then continued, "The Elites haven't got any control over any of the lower ranks now. It's funny – I always thought that we'd be able to pull through all right even if Giovanni was gone – we are a team, after all, but that looks like it isn't the case."

Dr. Craig, brushing his fingertip against the freshly marked wall, asked, "Have they gotten worse about blaming me?"

"Yes," Eric moaned, lightly pulling on the rim of his grunt hat as he placed his other hand to his face in an attempt to secure a bandage hanging loosely off his cheek. "They're all just trying to put the blame on one person. I really wouldn't be surprised if they tried to hang you by the neck."

Although a traditional hanging was unsuitable even for Team Rocket, several other attempts to bring harm upon Dr. Craig were carried throughout the next week, and he had nearly finished reading a small stack of what one might call hate mail from lower and surprisingly upper ranks, when his stomach emitted an immense growl.

"I really need to go to the cafeteria to get breakfast," he thought to himself, but immediately decided against it when his eyes scanned the letter from an upper rank member placed shakily in his hands. The sender boldly declared that if Dr. Craig were to as so step out of his office that the member swore on his life that he would see it sure that the scientist's face would look as if a shovel had hit it.

So the next few hours were spent in a tedious stillness, with the only sound being the continuingly louder rumbling coming from Dr. Craig's empty stomach.

But finally, he heard a soft but persistent rapping on his door, assuming it was Eric with his lunch. He had spent the last twenty minutes watching his clock, and his stomach gave off a rumble of discontent each time a minute later passed.

He got up, opened the door, and began saying, "It's about time you got here, Grunt," but instantly became silent as he felt the cold metal of a gun forcibly digging into his forehead, which parted his black bangs down the center.

He immediately took several steps back, but the heel of his shoe tore into a piece of paper lying on the floor, nearly ripping the quick sketch of a Pikachu down its middle. He stumbled to the ground but swiftly snapped his head back up to face the doorway, finding Brian, the Grunt, pointing a gun fixed directly to his head.

"Hello," Brian said nonchalantly, bringing the circular tip of the gun to his tongue and slowly began licking it with an almost sickening affection, "So you really have been cooped up here all this time then.

"It's funny," he continued, instead beginning to circle the tip of the gun with his gloved thumb, "Funny that someone as idiotic as you could possibly bring about the end of the greatest criminal organization in the history of the Kanto Region."

"What's funny is that you still dare to call us anything of a team," Dr. Craig said weakly, remembering what Eric had mentioned to him only a few days before. "Killing me isn't going to do anything! It's not…. It's not fair."

"Now I never used the word "team" did I?" Brian laughed. "And haven't you ever heard the expression all's fair in love and war? Well that could be applied now."

"This is just as much your fault as it is mine," Dr. Craig retorted, his voice cracking greatly as he saw Brian gingerly place his fingers on the trigger. "…Y- You can't possibly blame me for all of this."

"You were the one that was in charge of the project, weren't you?" he barked in return, redirecting his aim from the scientist's head to his chest, "And I'm not going to risk being killed for your mistake."

"Get off him, Grunt."

Brian froze in place, with the only movement being the slight shaking of the gun, which was now slipping through the dan'in's fingers. He closed his eyes slightly, took in a ragged breath, and lowered the weapon, desperately trying to block out the dying and rising whispers he could hear coming from the filled doorway.

The Boss had come back to Headquarters.

Ooh, looks like everyone is in trouble now! Let the dying begin!

Would you like to see what will happen to Pokemon and human alike?If you do, then please leave me a lovely, charming review. I mean come on now; it isn't that hard to do. And trust me, your mouse won't explodeupon contact with leaving a review. I promise it wont.

Till Next Time,

Tear22