I have returned with another installment. As you will quickly see, this story departs from the traditional norms of a mystery, as I reveal facts and motives from both the protagonists and the antagonists. This is to keep the story from being bogged down with too many holes. Still, many puzzles are yet to be solved.

I claim no rights to any previously published material, including characters, themes, concepts, logos, companies, and trademarks. They are Copyright to their respective creators, owners, and publishers. I claim ownership to this fan-fiction work and this fan-fiction work alone, including any original characters and titles.

Now, back to the story. Please Read and Review if you have the chance.

THE GENETICIST'S NOTEBOOK

By A.G.M. Mendelssohn, 2005, 2006

Chapter Two

Change of Point-of-View—11:23 P.M, Deep-wooded Viridian Forest

What was the best adjective to describe the moment? Overjoyed? No, too ecstatic an emotion that very much ruined the atmosphere. Blissful? No, still too pinkish of a phrase. Satisfied? Perhaps, but something a little more than that. Content? Yes...that was it: "content."

"Content" was a fair word to capture my state of mind—content of a job well done, thank you very much. Not as much for the weather, I'm sorry to say, seeing as it was a bright, moonlit evening, absent of any single overcast. The stars twinkled upon a midnight sky, and even the city's lights couldn't flush away this perfectly clear night. Pity...pity... That left over a thousand opportunities to be seen, especially by someone more than an unwary passerby below, and if that happened, I daresay our plans could very well waste away to nothing but dusty failure. Ah, well. We were too far skywards anyway, and not even governmental radar could identify us now.

Taking my eyes from the overly lovely view, I set my sights back into the passenger compartment. I couldn't completely smother a half-amused, half-disgusted grimace. Here and there, in various padded seats, my lesser comrades sat in a rather undignified silence. One grunt had his cap drooped over his eyes, and he snored with a noise remarkably similar to a dying Phanpy. Another didn't even bother with the cap—he had his head tilted back, his eyes closed and asleep, with a trickle of saliva on the corner of his mouth. Another couple of dunces stared blankly at a wall, shuffling their feet in uncomfortable boredom, probably thinking of all the fancy things they would squander their money on. Horrible, horrible...possibly the worst display of our organization's protocol. But it is a small price to pay for hiring dumb hands and muscle—at least they never hesitated to obey an order. "Seize," I would say, and they would seize; "ransack," and they would ransack; "kill" and they would kill. In fact, if I were to command one of these fools to exit this helicopter without a parachute, he would probably jump without a second thought. Hard to believe what a man would do for any amount of Pen, those little coins for earthly comfort.

Happiness told by idiots, I must say—a kingdom full of fools. Deeply spawned by this understanding, I had always wished that a majority of humanity...would just vanish. Begone. All the morons of the world, the ones that clog up and serve as hindrances at the expense of the worthy. Trivial pursuits overrun their lives, not at all like the goals I hope to achieve. Better they as inhuman servants than blockages of progress and stability, if I were to have my way.

I rolled the miniature capsules between my right-hand fingers. IMG agent in my grasp. Confidential reports in safe hands. The recipe for success. Pity the old man had to go in the process, with that brilliant mind of his, but it was worth the sacrifice. Besides, Andrew lacked a worthy heart. There would be no place for such a ceaseless tyrant in our bounty.

I checked the time—11:25. By now, the city was well behind us, and the Viridian Forest rested below us like a blanket of eternal darkness, tinged with a hint of moonlight gray. Yet despite its vastness, it was never quite at peace. Untamed creatures roamed the woodland, looking for nourishment and territory, never satisfied, never ceasing, those nocturnal creatures that click and howl, fly and scurry. The trees brought shelter to them, and they resided in their many limbs and branches. Of course, throughout the centuries, the pines' and oaks' majestic size attracted greedy landowners to the trough, eager to make some quick money. Fortunately, the land was protected, not only by the Kanto Environmental Bureau, but also by the natural roughness and wildness of the soil. Paths and roots twisting the way and that way, it made the forest almost uninhabitable by human development. Which of course was very convenient, in our case.

I leaned over and tapped the pilot firmly on the shoulder.

"Yah?" He spun his head around and spoke in a repulsive tone, some sort of garlic on his breath. "What you want, boose? Me steering the chopper alright?"

I grimly stretched my lips. I was speaking to another idiot.

"How long it will be before we reach the base," I stated firmly, carefully phrasing my tone away from the interrogative voice. "That's what I want, and nothing more. So tell me, if you can."

"Uh..." The operator scratched his head with his left hand, his right hand still on the controls, mouth slightly opened as he thought about it. "I dunno, boose...'bout five minutes, methinks."

"Excellent," I completed, settling back into my seat. "Back to work with you, then. Land this vehicle with accuracy and precision, if you please, as I hope to meet with my Superior with all my bones intact."

The operator uttered the most clueless of expressions: "Huh?"

I puckered with a lemon-like grimace, my fingers in a steeple. "In terms an imbecile like yourself might understand: 'steer this chopper.'"

"Right-o, boose!" He issued a God-awful grin that reminded me vaguely of a Steelix and the jack-o-lanterns I had carved in my youth. Seeing that I wasn't going to return what he thought was a warm smile, he returned to his steering with no further words.

I shook my head wearily, hoping my time to pass with these clowns would end with posthaste. I couldn't wait to see my own executive; he anxiously awaited my arrival. Obviously it had everything to do with my success on the evening, seeing as these IMG capsules were the key ingredients in changing the world. Competitors of my master have tried and failed—even we have met our own shortcomings in the Experiment. The Experiment proved to be a stubborn thing, as its inhabitants had minds of their own. Human minds...righteous...rebellious minds. We've made many sub-branches on this Experiment, applied many methods of treatment, but no matter how hard we tried, we could not remain in control. Millions upon millions of Pen lost in tongues of flame and smoke...literally. And not just because our experiments failed, but also because of my master's so-called nemesis.

Him.

"The Flame Collar," as our organization has nicknamed him. For many years he has been an agony to our success and a thorn in our side. Labs burned, our men hunted down, plans foiled—I never joke—all because of one man. Well, theoretically one man. He was next in a family line that brought certain turmoil to us, leading all the way back to his great-grandfather. He had the tendency to show up when we least expected him, that annoying overgrown smut, to wreck havoc on our glorious proceedings. I swear the instant his location is revealed...I will see to his secure imprisonment—or assassination, if my boss grants me the favor.

A bump of turbulence rid me from my personal thoughts and revenges. I could feel the helicopter lowering into a slight clearing in the middle of the woods. I refocused my thoughts, feeling the capsules in my palm. This was it. Time to meet with my boss.

As the helicopter landed, I hastily swung open the door, gracefully leaping onto the grass-laden soil. A tiny desolate cabin nestled itself amongst several pines. A perfect place for a hideout. True, to the untrained eye it appeared to be a dusty old shack, but for the sake of our security, it had might as well been a lavish manor in Paradise.

I smiled a rare smile as the rest of the air vehicles landed around me. A half dozen grunts leapt from the passenger compartments before the helicopters had completely stabilized on the ground, successfully tripping over their own feet and landing in a crumpled heap on top of one another. My smile vanished like a Vulpix down its hole. Soon, soon...if success is on our side, all of these incompetent fools will no longer be necessary.

"Make sure you return these helicopters back to where they belong," I curtly instructed one of the less-dense soldiers. "There is no need for the government to be suspicious of their whereabouts." My gaze lingered on the red-star emblem for a moment as I said this, dismissing the grunt with a wave of my hand. He walked away without even a "yes, sir," that disrespectful wretch.

I somewhat moodily stalked over to the cabin's single wooden door as the helicopters lifted off again. I pulled it open—it creaked anciently as it allowed my entrance. I stepped inside its dusty interior. To anyone else, the inside consisted merely of a frayed carpet and a few pieces of furniture, each strung with cobwebs and coated thickly with dust. The walls were made of a combination of wood and stone, the fireplace emitting a cold aura in the shack. Overall, it was an uneasy atmosphere that loomed over the cabin...but not to me.

I squinted in the darkness, looking for something...looking...looking...there! A tiny red light shone dimly in an isolated corner of the room, clashing with the rest of the antique hovel. I approached the light, feeling around for a keypad attached to the wall. The hidden entrance to our headquarters waited quietly.

Soon finding the keypad, I quickly punched in my twenty-eight-digit access code, impatiently waiting for the computer to process my identification. After a moment's wait, the minute red light turned green; a click came forth, indicating that the door had unlocked.

I pushed upon the distinguished portion of wall, opening the door to reveal a dark passage and a set of metallic stairs leading down into the basement. Of course, basement was an understatement. I watched my step as I felt my way through the unlit passage, closing the door behind me as I did. I treaded down the steps in the pitch-blackness, making my way below ground. Eventually, the passage began to lighten as I drew near its end, leading into the main portion of our base. I could hear a great mass of voices up ahead, growing louder as I advanced forward.

"Sir, Test 435 is failing to respond to Brand 009—"

"Try applying it through Method D...Method C may not be strong enough—"

"Has Valence returned yet? If we're going to develop a new line of Experiments—"

"Do not refer to him as 'Valence.' And no, he hasn't returned yet—"

"Sir, Test 489 has become unstable and unresponsive. Its brainwaves are rapidly diminishing—"

"Abort immediately. There are to be no imperfections—"

"The infused Meganium is dead. It failed to survive DNA extraction—"

"Collect a few samples of its DNA, anyway. Though we can't use it for our Experiments, its DNA may prove useful, nevertheless."

"When is this shift over?"

"It's over at twelve o'clock, now shut up and get back to work."

Ah, it seemed that our scientists were busy. They had better, seeing as I had personally paid each of them a hefty amount of Pen for their superlative work in the genetic sciences, as well as their secrecy. If any of them breathed so much as a word about our production to anyone outside the organization, I would see to their violent demise—not necessarily in death; I had never been too adverse in administering the (apparently) called "living damnation" upon anyone that I found appropriate.

Entering on a balcony overlooking the view, I was now inside the laboratory, Section HQR1. One of several laboratory sections, I should add. Over the last few months, our headquarters had become an extensive network of cables, oversized test tubes, and scientific workstations, stretching well over a two-mile radius beneath the Viridian Forest. Our electric power source was environmentally safe, private, and overall undetectable by anyone, especially by any select governmental groups. Not that our headquarters was our only lab, obviously, but it was our most developed and sophisticated. The other facilities were located in Cerulean, Celadon, Saffron, Lavender, downtown Viridian, and several various points in Johto. Anything that happened in those laboratories had to run approval through our main branch, under the rule of my Superior and I.

Our organization did not consist entirely of laboratories. Rather, our headquarters was more of a utopia for the worthy than a camp of servitude, as well as a refuge for our employees. Sections of our base were made up of bedding rooms, recreation sectors, lounges, dining halls, and several kitchens. My superior had constantly reminded me that the better the conditions for the workers, the better their performance on the job. Though I never said this to his face, I privately disagreed. Pain was a better inspiration than love and care, as I found out in my earlier years.

I proceeded directly to the boardroom, located in Section HQR2. Crawling past the numerous scientists busy mixing chemicals and running tests, others tapping away at their laptop computers, I approached the outside of the large office several Sections down.

I took a calming breath, my excitement rather out of control. I knocked on the door.

A moment's silence, then...

"I've been expecting you," came a deep voice from within."Enter."

The door opened a crack. I pushed it the rest of the way, stepping into the boardroom's atmosphere.

The boardroom was rather dim, the single light bulb flickering with dull light. Despite my generally bold nature, I wavered slightly at the room's deep tenebrosity. On one side of an oaken table sat a tall swivel chair and a figure nestled in its seat. Two private bodyguards stood at either side of him, arms folded and their faces clouded by shadows. I stood tall, in a sign of respect, for Don Giovanni sat before me with folded hands, expectantly waiting for my news of triumph, his face stern as if it were carved from stone.

"I have returned, sir. The trio of IMG capsules have been secured, as well as the reports of their creation." I firmly stated my lines without a single tremor in my voice. "In addition, Andrew Pine, the geneticist, is terminated from our enemy list—he is dead." I paused for a moment, waiting for Giovanni's reply.

Giovanni reserved his speech for a moment, perhaps reflecting on the evening's events. It was a rather uncomfortable silence, seeing as I was just standing there and not much else, facing my boss rather awkwardly. It was maybe a full minute before he spoke in a powerful, high-status voice, cutting the darkness a bit a like a sharp knife on Miltank butter.

"You were seen."

A big blow that I hadn't expected had hit my ears. Seen? Well, seen in a sense that we were spotted by someone of law authority. With such a decay-fraught government in Kanto, a civilian witness wasn't going to get too many words to the police in a crime investigation. But seen?

"That cannot be, sir," I said with a quiet voice, not allowing Giovanni to see the sudden pallor in my tone. "We made every security measure possible to prevent such a scenario...aside from the weather, of course—"

"Yes, yes, I know," snapped Giovanni, a slight annoyance on his tongue. "But all the same, a Viridian police officer arrived in time to catch sight of our contact's air vehicles...a red-star..."

I shook my head. "How is that possible? We set every part of our plan to perfection—"

"Not the lock-down alarm. Try as you may to hide it, you know as well as I the lock-down alarm was not part of our plan. The silent alarm, as well, as my contact informs me..."

"Both were backed-up, set on a private line. We wouldn't have been able to inactivate them—"

"You do know what this means, I assume?" Giovanni was apparently in no mood for explanations, so I decided it best to answer his questions without any weights upon them.

"There is the possibility that the government will interfere in this investigation." I found it strange that I was lowering my head, the success of the evening apparently evaporated. "The IBI may be contacted."

Giovanni inclined his head slightly, which I assumed to be a nod. "The government and the media is not what I am concerned about, as they already twist stories better than I can. It is the IBI what I am worried about, and the potential alarm to them through the authoritarian witness. After all, only certain police officials have the IBI's private phone line—and this one, quite unfortunately for us, does. It may have been only your escape vehicles...but if they are traced to our contact..." He paused briefly.

"Then he can be traced to us," I completed somewhat solemnly, "and if he is traced to us, then the IBI could come knocking on our door. But—"

"No member of the IBI is going to accurately understand our motives of thieving the IMG capsules," said my Superior, taking care to cut me off once more. "If anything, they will pass us off as a unit of Pen-hoarding thieves, wanting the DNA for our own publication and monetary greed. However, it all depends on who they dispatch for investigation—from what I heard, I believe this Viridian officer will pay them a call in due time—and it is a fair possibility they will send..." He paused again, allowing me to fill in the blanks.

I nodded, choking with the words slowly and painfully. "Him. The Flame Collar...and he already knows too much about us. A tip-off from this witness and the potential dual-intervention of both could prove devastating for our underground security." Though I knew I was a favorite of Giovanni and therefore needn't fear getting smothered by his typical rage, it didn't stop me from bracing myself for vocal impact.

"Hmm.…" Giovanni hummed a barely audible murmur. "Devastating, perhaps. But maybe this could turn out to be a blessing in a Dragonite's stomach. The lock-down alarm blasted out most of the helicopters' movements, so there was only one significant witness, thank God. She may have told her story to the Viridian Chief, Yosemite Bluefield, but he won't do anything, for his 'ego's' sake. Anyway, he'll look very professional if he personally catches and convicts the murderer without any help from higher authority. And seeing his wife is Kanto's only High Court Justice...useful, useful..." He mused with his words around his mouth, pondering the situation. I failed to see how "useful" the circumstances actually were; all I could see was a hellish blaze set upon our not-too-distant future.

But then: "We shall find a scapegoat—a decoy for the murder and the theft. Perhaps even 'incorporate' him with our little organization." Amusement hung on Giovanni's voice for a half-second, but it rapidly disappeared as he continued. "But for everything to work, we'll need to be rid of all witnesses...and any likely dispatches from the IBI's bureau. We cannot terminate our contact…yet. He is still too important a piece of our plan to let him go. But for everyone else, death is a fickle but inefficient way to do it, as we saw with...ah...Andrew." He emphasized the last word in a way that made my blood briefly flush in a bitter stream. I hated that man so much, that depraved and empty heart—but alas, revenge flows sweet. He was now dead; he cannot come forth from his grave.

Giovanni interrupted my thoughts. "Which brings us to the more important matter—the IMG." He lifted his right hand in an open-palm fashion, as if expectantly waiting to receive something.

I snapped back to life. "Yes, sir, the IMG. All three capsules are here. I'm sure you've received the e-mailed paperwork in advance..." I gestured to one of the guards, who promptly strode around the table. Gently taking the capsules from my hand, the bodyguard returned to Giovanni's side, passing the precious DNA agent over to him. Giovanni clicked the small metal containers together as if weighing the worth of a few pieces of gold. He glanced at the freshly printed reports on the table (at least, I think he glanced at them), and remained in his passive state. Then he said a few words that threw my confidence right off:

"Is this it?"

"Sir?" asked I, uncertain what he meant.

"Are you sure this is all you've brought back for me?"

"Yes...sir." Confusion knotted in my right temple. The capsules were in his hand, the documents were in his sight, so what else was he looking for? "That was all we picked up—that was all we had time for, since we were under a restricted schedule...not to mention the lock-down alarm..."

"Hmph…another inconvenience for the list. Ah, well, we'll address that problem when we get there…." I decided not to pursue the topic, despite the fact I hadn't the slightest clue what he was talking about.

"Now, to business." He plowed on without a second thought. "This IMG perfects our plans in the Experiment; what previously failed will no longer be a hindrance. For with this IMG, we can mix it with our own past serums to create the ultimate prize…the Deteriorative-Invasive Metamorphic Gene—DIMG. Derived from the geneticist's diligent work…the great tool for completing our goals…our ambitions to be quenched." An upwelling of an uncharacteristic dreaminess crept into Giovanni's voice. "The free-minded Hybrids will be hereby obsolete—we will no longer need to use the complicated HMG, with its many faults and flaws…all thanks to Pine, too." Smugness tinged with genuine happiness briefly lit my Superior's features. I could almost vow upon my soul I saw him smile…such was a nice feeling for me. It made any of my unpleasantness vanish, all my work worth the while, seeing my Superior happy. Like a father I never had…

"But we will need a specimen," continued Giovanni, straightening his suit jacket. "A test subject: Test 001. And perchance—" he allowed his thoughts to cross him as he spoke, "—we can capture two Pidgeys with one sphere." With this, he pulled a miniature pad of paper towards him. Scribbling hastily upon it with a fountain pen, he tore a piece of paper from the pad and slipped it across the boardroom table. Picking it up, I squinted at the information on the scrap. Quickly memorizing the message's contents, I ripped the scrap into tiny pieces.

"So, you want me to complete this written operation?" I confirmed.

"Tonight, if possible," said Giovanni, relatively light-hearted compared to his other moods.

"With pleasure, sir," I replied, with upmost sincerity. Who cares if it was the dead of night, and I was being sent to run an errand at such an obscure hour? I would be glad to do anything for my boss. After all, he is the best Superior I've ever had….

"Good fortune be upon you, Valence," he called as I felt around for the brass doorknob.

"And to you, sir." I found the knob and stepped outside the office, paying Giovanni one last glance before shutting the door.

Another fair task for the evening. The hunt, as I had always called it. Now, to find a secure method of transportation….

"SKRE-E-E…!"

There was a metallic siren in the distance. My broad smile fell right off my face. Midnight; the third and final shift was over. Now I had to face a crowd of scientists and employees returning to their nighttime quarters, and maybe worse, face a Head Scientist for the end-of-day report.

Frowning tartly, I, with a quick stride, strolled down several back corridors and hallways, cutting through a dining room (some grunts were passed out from the Gloomesque brandy, stooped over chairs like ragdolls), several recreation rooms (a scientist or two were watching The Tonight Show with Erika Amaryllis on a large television--a program I rather detested due to our failure to merge several aboveground companies with Scent-sation Inc.), and a couple of kitchens (chefs were cleaning up dishes from the pre-prepared creme brûlée Miltanke). Marking shortcuts through several now-empty laboratories, the lights dimming automatically for the six-hour rest period, I made my way to the closest Transportation Holding Area, several sectors west. What I needed was a rugged vehicle that didn't attract too much attention, and could survive Viridian Forest's vicious landscape.

Eventually, I spotted the familiar steel-enforced doors. Approaching quickly, I reached one hand to the entrance keypad.

"Ah, Valence! There you are!"

I recognized the voice to be Coleridge Milton, Third Executive Chairman of our entire network. (I was the First Executive Chairman, Military Commander in Chief, Private Agent, and Superior Favorite, so do not let his title belittle me in any way.) His job, as well as several other peoples' jobs, was to oversee each laboratory sector of our immediate headquarters. I sighed—so close to departure, yet so far…

I turned around to face the thick-haired man. "Seeing as the shift has ended, I see no reason why you shouldn't refer to me by my first name, so how may I help you, Coleridge?"

The Executive pushed his thin-lens specs back on the bridge of his nose. "To wait for a moment while I clarify the report of the day's events, of course. Seeing as you are Giovanni's Favorite—"

"Kindly refer to him as your Superior in the future, Coleridge, as he yields complete power over every Team Rocket affair, as well as its associates. Disrespect is a felony is our organization, as you very well know…." Well, that's that. I assumed you knew that our organization was named Team Rocket. I don't exactly understand how you would know the name of our network, but I shan't trouble you too much about it. Anyway…

"I shall, Valence, I shall, my apologies—nothing wrong with calling you by your first name, right—? Well, nevertheless, I have a list of several bullets to address with you before sending them to the Record-keeping and Financial Branches in the morning…"

I clicked my tongue rather impatiently. "Make it quick, Coleridge. I have an important task to fulfill in a limited time span. Something related to the Revamp, thank you very much, so spit the details to me before I demote you down to Grunt."

Coleridge smiled; he knew what I said was an empty threat. He knew too much about our plans to be reset as a mere Rocket grunt. He would be holding his position until he otherwise retired or died. "Well, well…a cranky mood, are you, Valence? Very well, I shall be brief." He cleared his throat and began to read the minutes.

"A Meganium in Section HQR5 died while trying to fuse it with—"

"You at least salvaged its DNA?" I said with an added grin of maybe half an inch.

Coleridge's eyebrows rose. "Quite correct. Should I send some to your private laboratory for testing?"

I considered it for a moment. My lab was in Section HQR0, also known as the "Executive's Haven." Only special officials in Team Rocket were granted access to such a haven, as it had the largest and comfortable living conditions within its space—not unlike a middle school legend called the "Teacher's Lounge," except it was a reality. Only my Superior and all his specially selected Executives were allowed entrance, I being one of them, and the private laboratory was used for any half-baked plans and potential future Experiments. The very first place where the Hybrid epidemic was established…

"I suppose so," I finally said. "Perhaps I'll need the DNA for later experimentation. Next?"

"Several Hybrids had to be abort—"

"Skip over that," I interrupted, not really interested in hearing graphic details of a Test's body implosion. "Next?"

"We still cannot locate the three hundred missing Hybrids and Clones escaped over the last twenty years—"

"A long report. You've kept that search on for too long already. Next?"

"That's just about it. Oh, and well done on that Pine Operation. The media is already tilling stories around and around—I don't even think they released the correct name of the geneticist, seeing as he didn't bear—"

"If that's it, Coleridge," I spoke tersely now, cutting him off, "I will now be leaving on a private operation. Get a good night's rest, and be ready for the assembly meeting in the morning."

The Executive checked his notes. "Ah, one more thing." He tapped his pen upon the detail at the bottom of his clipboard. "The Hybrid we had been watching for you, Valence, Test 099, is growing restless and still will not speak. His health is suffering tremendously through the injections; personally, I don't think he will survive…"

"Cure him of that. He has information we badly want. It'll be quite unfortunate if he dies, and even with our newfound IMG serum, it will make our plans somewhat more complicated to achieve, since he knows the location of—"

"Yes, yes, we'll work on that right away." Coleridge lowered the clipboard, scribbling a note on the amassed papers. "And that just about finishes up the report. I've got nothing else to tell you, except wishing you some good luck on your late-night mission. So, good luck." He strode away with a lunatic's grin and a cheery wave.

"Luck is for the unprepared," I grumbled, tapping twenty-eight digits into the keypad. Like before, the door processed my identification information for a moment before unlocking. Pushing the door open, I entered the vehicle holding area.

A great collection of jeeps, limousines, trucks, and common civilian cars met my sight, spread around the room in several rows like a typical company warehouse. Let's see…which vehicle would I use for this task? A jeep? No, too obvious and identifiable by a police authoritarian. A truck? No, too large and unstable for the Viridian Forest. A revamped limousine? Hmm… the deep treads and brakes to survive any road condition? The extra room and blacked-out windows? The extra carrying space for any additional passengers?

To myself I nodded—perfect.

This chapter may need some reconstruction, seeing as much of the formatting had been lost when I uploaded this story to the site. Check for future updates, as I will probably need to re-edit this chapter. Again, please take the time to post a review if you have the chance, as well as any information or suggestions you may have. That is all...for now.

- A.G.M. Mendelssohn