A/N

Long AN incoming

Yeah, I'll admit I probably rushed the last chapter, but I'm going to explain my reasoning a bit here instead of responding to everyone individually.

The reason he did some dumb shit was that he never really got it through his head that this wasn't like the shows and games. There was one example of Union Cave that stuck out to him, but other than that the only things he's seen are stuff akin to the media he had consumed.

Almost everyone was cheerily nice and helpful to him, random events that seemed like fate kept happening, and overall he hasn't really lost yet. He scraped a draw against Garrick, was in neutral versus Misty, tricked that guy in New Bark Town, won easily against Sneasel, and scraped a bare win against Larvitar.

This was supposed to be his big loss. Maybe I could have explained it a bit better, maybe I should have burned this slower, but in all honesty, he was viewing this as a rather fun game that had one or two bad things happen, primarily Union Cave and Liam.

So, he decided to go in half-cocked for no other reason than it sounded like fun and this was his chance to really get started on his Anti-Rocket agenda.

And for people that are criticizing me "artificially" lowering his IQ into single digits to ram through this plotline… have you never done anything in your life that you knew was a bad idea at the time, ignored that and did it anyway, and were immediately slapped with the consequences?

People do dumb shit all the time. Overconfident people do it even more. And for people worried about MC getting random artificial power up so he doesn't have to train…

That just isn't my style. He got one freebie from being reincarnated, this has a price to pay.

Enjoy it if you want.

I groan as I turn onto my other side. Hawthorne is a fucking jackass, and whatever his mysterious "unlocking of the DNA" thing did doesn't feel like it's working right.

At this point in my life in this world, I was intimately familiar with the feeling of pain coursing through my body. This felt different than that. Instead of pain, it was just an overwhelming feeling of wrongness.

One moment my right legs felt larger than my left ones. Next, my head is too big for my neck. After that, I suddenly felt fat and bloated like I couldn't stand at all.

One of my biggest worries is that every once in a while I swear I can see yellow beneath my normally dark grey and brown fur.

'Destroy the room' my ass. I couldn't destroy a fly as I am right now. I shudder as a new feeling washes through me, trying my best to calm down.

Spoiler alert, it wasn't fucking working. Not only was my body freaking out, but my mind was too. Learn you're a genetic experiment and then have your body destabilize after a mad scientist injects you with something and you'll probably start to freak out.

And there's that yellow fur again. It better not be my eyes changing too that's causing that, I'd rather not have to worry about my eyes popping from their sockets as I turn to soup. Not literally, but I wouldn't be surprised if I did turn into soup at this point.

After a little while, I felt a large ripple cut through me. This one actually hurt, like I had been lit on fire all of the sudden. I gasp out loud and feel myself claw at the ground before my vision cuts out and I feel like a flashbang just went off.

It took a good 5 seconds for this one to abate, and when it did I felt a new level of anger towards Hawthorne.

I was now bipedal but very obviously still a Pokemon. One I recognized that very well wasn't myself. One covered in yellow with some grey/blue fur.

"Why the FUCK am I a Riolu?!" I shout out, knowing that no one can hear me. I was solid too, I could absolutely feel it. I move one paw in front of my face and squint at it, only to let out a shocked yell when it turns back into a Zorua paw. Not the rest of me though, just this one paw.

My paw goes back to matching the rest of my body without my input, then without warning, I'm forced to hunch over as I'm back to being Quadrupedal as a Zorua again. I had absolutely no control over this, I was shifting between forms as easily as breathing.

Oh Hawthorne, you just fucked me over. You've fucked me so hard. At least I'm about the same size as I was before so I wasn't killed by this damn collar. I start to pace back and forth in my cell, only to find out that that was a bad idea after I faceplant when I suddenly change back to Riolu.

I pick myself back up and dust myself off. I look… strange when I look at myself and focus. Like just under the surface I am a sea roiling in a massive storm. I take a deep breath and try to hold the water-like substance beneath me still.

It works for a small moment before my control snaps like a thin wire and I'm back to being a Zorua.

Alright, scrap every single fucking escape plan I made I guess. There's no way. There's no fucking way. Unlock my full potential my furry fucking ass, all this did was kill what control I had over my power.

Okay, I need to get this fixed. The only person I can talk to is Hawthorne, who coincidentally is the only person who could fix this abject disaster, while also being the cause of it in the first place. Now all I need to do is get his attention somehow. Presumably, my cell is guarded, right? I'll just… hope he left the translator with the guards.

"HEY! GUARDS! I REALLY NEED YOU TO GRAB HAWTHRONE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!" I yell out, utilizing my masterful skills in diplomacy to hopefully get them to agree. Sadly, there's no response from the guards. So either they don't care or weren't given the translator.

"Fuck. Fuuuuuuck," I groan out as my body partially switches now before halting halfway.

"Great, now I am a fuckin' monstrosity," I mutter as I look at myself. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You knew what was coming, but you couldn't tear your eyes away.

This is going to be a long, long wait, isn't it?

LINE BREAK

Well, at least after a while you sorta get used to your body shifting constantly. It still felt wrong and uncomfortable as all hell, but it didn't make me feel like puking my guts out anymore. My longest period of not shifting was 9 minutes and counting since that record is currently ongoing as my Riolu form.

Even though I felt much more comfortable as a Zorua, it was much easier to stay as a Riolu since I could see when I started to destabilize and shift before it happens. Go figure, the one form easiest to stay in is the one that I can't use publicly.

After what felt like an eternity, but was more realistically only a handful of hours, the door to my cell started to open.

It looks like Hawthorne finally got the doors oiled like he wanted because there was minimal creaking and grinding this time. And speaking of, the man himself quickly strode in with briefcase in hand and a self-satisfied smirk at seeing me. Most likely at seeing me as a Riolu. I immediately wanted to disabuse him of the notion that he was a success the moment I saw that smirk.

"So, you just fucked up badly Hawthorne," is my opener to this… lovely conversation. His brow furrows as he turns to me after setting down his briefcase.

"How so, it appears to have worked flawlessly my wonderful creation," he says, positively beaming as he throws his arms out. In response, I release my grip over my form that I painstakingly cobbled together.

Almost immediately, I rippled slightly and both of my legs turned into Zorua legs for a few moments before snapping back to match my body. But not to be outdone, the rest of my body decided to flicker between Zorua and Riolu form.

Eventually, I calm down the changes with only a few minor ones happening and no major ones. I draw my knees up and set my arms on top of them, raising an eyebrow to the shocked scientist.

"Flawlessly, I'm sure. That happening the moment I stop paying attention to the aura inside of me is absolutely intended," I sarcastically grouse out, enjoying his sudden look of frustration. "I mean, what could possibly go wrong with messing with my DNA more when it's already an apparent miracle that I'm alive?"

"I did the tests on your predecessors, none of them showed any signs of this malfunction," he states confidently, like an adult assuring a child that growing pains were normal.

"All of them are also dead, you idiot. I mean, sure, let's just inject me with more alterants. Evolve me right now, I'm sure that forcing that won't make me way weaker than a natural evolution anyway!" I bite out mockingly as I lose concentration, shifting back into Zorua form. This is a guy that made me? Did I somehow inherit his penchant for doing dumb shit in spite of being smart?

It was a good point anyway. I would probably be made weaker overall by evolving with that serum compared to natural growth, I just don't care too much in the face of freedom. Maybe I would live to regret that, but in the grand scheme of things, I don't trust surviving around this asshole. He already completely ruined my control over my own body because he trusted his testing on failed prototypes, he obviously isn't thinking quite straight in regards to me.

Maybe that's just a mental cop-out though since I decided to get evolved before I even got injected with this bullshit.

Hawthorne shoots me a nasty sneer, hastily walking over as he reaches down and grabs my small form in one hand. Yanking me up hard enough that I feel my one leg almost pull from its socket as I'm held aloft by the one limb. Yelping, I try to struggle from his grip but that only makes things worse as I feel the limb twist now as I'm partially swapped back into Riolu form without the freedom of movement for my body to readjust to being bipedal.

"Ack! What the fuck Hawthorne? Careful with the merchandise here, don't want to spoil the goods even more than you have, do you?" I taunt out, knowing I probably shouldn't be egging him on. The problem is that I'm the kind of person to spit in the face of a desperate situation and laugh, damn the consequences.

Hawthorne roughly tosses me onto the table, carelessly knocking his briefcase off of it as it clatters to the ground with a crash, the sound of glass breaking inside of it evident. The impact changes me the rest of the way, leaving me fully Riolu for the time being.

"You will get yourself under control right this instant! This is not the time to be fooling around and acting out, this is supposed to be a time of great scientific achievement! Other Executives have already heard of your retrieval, and are looking to test my creation to see if it matches the potential that I promised them," Hawthorne hisses out, starting the breath heavily as he looms over me.

"Ah, you see, I'd love to do that but I don't particularly like you. Also, in case you can't tell from this conversation, I don't have control. Whatever you did to fuck me up, I'd suggest unfucking this right now," I reply harshly, not liking what I'm hearing. Going to throw me into a gauntlet or some cage matches without bothering to train me at all?

Okay I'd be a nightmare to train considering I'm essentially a hostage but the point stands.

Holding back some of the more egregious changes by focusing and rubbing my shoulder where I had felt my arm twist a bit, I raise one eyebrow at him as I wait.

Hawthorne seems to lose it a bit at this, letting out a short yell as he stalks over to the door and opens it. As he steps outside and barks some orders that I can't quite make out, I take the opportunity to try to plan for this situation.

I'm not sure what this test will entail, but he really seems to want to force me to get stronger for it. And if he's also been comparing me to Mewtwo, who is the Pokemon equivalent of a nuke and has blown up an entire Team Rocket base by himself, there may be good cause for wanting me to get stronger.

The problem is that I'm only theoretically as strong in many many years of intense training and learning. I mean, I think I can learn any move that a form I physically take can learn. It just isn't… as… strong…

Oooh shit. I don't know any moves that a Riolu can learn except for Counter. And my only semi-stable form right now is Riolu…

Fuck. That's unfortunate.

As much as I don't want to, I may have to go back to only having Counter as a viable battle plan. And I put all that work into Dark Pulse too...

Okay, no bitching over spilled milk now. It's just hard to plan when I don't even know what's going to be done.

When Hawthorne is done yelling his head off at people I'm just going to try to weasel the information out of him. Hopefully, he just gives me that critical information right away but I'm not going to hold my breath over it.

And even though I'll probably have my collar taken off for the tests I highly doubt I could make my daring escape. First of all, a bunch of Team Rocket execs are going to be there and I'm done underestimating people for a good while. Do it once, and suddenly everything goes wrong, so I've learned my lesson about that.

I may remember them as bumbling idiots constantly being taken down by small children, but after being completely Wombo Comboed to the point where my feet certainly aren't happy and I'm sure that ain't Falco I'm not going to go pulling that shit again.

Turns out they actually have brains and I can't halfheartedly run in half-cocked and expect a victory. Who'd have thought? Well, lots of people probably if I'm being honest.

I wait patiently for Hawthorne to finally re-enter the room. Thankfully I have myself under control by now, and even the smaller changes have ceased, so when he re-enters he doesn't freak out again when looking at his malfunctioning "masterpiece". In all seriousness, why did you expect making a sentient being your Magnum Opus to result in everything going smoothly?

"We are commencing some critical testing immediately to determine exactly what is wrong with you. Pray that your condition is serious or there will be consequences," his teeth grinding at this, he reaches down towards me and grabs my metal collar. Even as he hoists me up and I feel the collar restrict against my throat, I'm still glad he didn't ragdoll me by my arm again. I'll take what I can get.

"So, doc buddy ol' pal. What kind of tests are those other execs looking to put lil' ol' me through?" I manage to choke out through my collar. By the slight shake and resulting pressure against my throat, he didn't appreciate my endearing terms of address. Good.

"Quiet you. And I believe it is intended to be a series of battles, due to the renovations they have ordered on a small arena that has been left in disuse for the past few years," Hawthorne explains, giving me a look that screamed 'I dare you to talk again.' Well, dare accepted.

"Oh, that's good. I was worried it would be something that didn't put me at a massive disadvantage due to my instability," I cheekily respond, fully expecting the resulting shake and momentary crushing of my throat. Sadly, he doesn't deign any further response as he brings me outside of my cell for the first time in my unfortunate stay here. It was all just bare concrete walls and a certain rather unhelpfulAbsol. I give them a small wave anyway since I can't really be disappointed if I didn't expect anything in the first place.

They cock their head to the side a bit, taking in my new Riolu form but seemingly recognizing me. Probably due to their disaster sense or whatever it really is. They immediately start to follow, causing Hawthorne to lightly grumble under his breath but not do much else. Oh, yeah, visiting rights and all that.

I'm taken down completely bare and nearly identical hallways, the only occasional change is a few doors in the walls. Presumably leading to more cells or rooms. I can't be sure, because for some ungodly reason none of them are actually labeled beyond a small metal number on the doors themselves. Great, another thing that can go wrong in an escape attempt.

After a good few minutes of being carried by my neck through twisting hallways, we finally come to a stop in front of a door numbered '73'. This doesn't really tell me much besides the fact that this place is large enough to have 72 other rooms at the very least. Great.

Hawthorne reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key, hastily sliding it into a keyhole and turning it with a hearty 'kerchunk. I can vaguely make out his current grumblings, which surprisingly enough are about "cheap ass idiots refusing to modernize with keypads" instead of me.

Opening the door, it reveals a completely pristine-looking lab otherwise marred with pages and notebooks strewn all over the place. Hawthorne, quite literally, drops me onto the nearest relatively uncovered table. It still had plenty of notebooks on it, but there was space for me to sit and move around so it's one of the better-off tables.

"How are you so meticulously clean with your lab to the point where it looks like I could eat off of the floor but can't manage to get a bookcase or large filing cabinet?"I ask as I poke at one of the nearby notebooks.

"You're a Pokemon. You could eat off of the floor of a garbage dump and be fine," Hawthorne absentmindedly responds as he sits down in front of his computer. Fair point, and neatly dodges my question. Fair enough I guess. Instead of pestering him over it, I slowly open one of the notebooks and attempt to read through them.

I say attempt, not because of a large amount of jargon or it's encoded or something, I say that because Hawthorne's handwriting is fucking atrocious. I guess he really is a doctor because I'm sure if humans could do magic in this setting this book would be enchanted with long-lost ancient runes.

I can make out just enough to realize that this is a notebook about my… ahem... predecessors. And upon further inspection and realizing what some of his letters look like, I rapidly come to understand that not all of them died. A large portion of them was just 'defective' since they didn't properly display the desired qualities.

I suddenly wish that I didn't read this notebook and learn that I had test tube siblings running around under Team Rocket control. Not because I won't beat them up or something, just that it's an… uncomfortable thing to realize. Wait, are they test tube siblings or test tube clones? I have different DNA so they can't be clones, right?

I get so distracted that I can feel my form start to ripple, so I immediately ignore the notebook and focus on stopping my body from deforming. Damn, this is annoying. I can't even go on one of my normal thinking sessions without becoming a visual abomination.

After a good while of him just clicking away on his computer and talking to himself, he finally stands back up and marches over to me with a frown. He opens a couple of drawers under the table before finally finding whatever it is he was looking for. Mainly, some sort of metallic device that I immediately distrust, considering what happened last time.

Which is why when, without warning, he immediately begins to move the strange device towards me that I back away and give him a flat glare.

"Oh calm down, this is just to sample your DNA so I can compare it to previous samples prior to the injection of the DAS," he explains, completely forgetting I have no idea what DAS means. I'm just going to assume it's some acronym for the Fuck Up Juice he injected me with.

"If this fucks me over again I'm going to do my best to claim your eyeballs, I hope you know that," I graciously warn, slowly walking closer and keeping a close eye on the device for any sudden movements.

"Believe me, I don't want any other setbacks or mishaps at this stage either," he states pompously like he was insulted that I would even insinuate that he would fuck up yet again. Sucks to be him, he's stuck with me for now until I can escape.

I sigh and shrug, moving the rest of the way towards him. He moves the device up to me and it creates a small pinch, but not similar to the feeling of that fucked up injection, so I don't react much.

Ignoring me completely now, Hawthorne looks down at the device and moves over to some equipment that I don't know nearly enough to have an idea of what it does. Instead, I look down at Absol who is currently just staring at me like usual.

"So, Absol, mind telling Alonso and everyone where I am? That'd be a big help, and I'd be eternally grateful if you did it,"I ask, already knowing I'm not going to get my request fulfilled. I just really hope that it got a reaction out of Hawthorne over there. And judging from the way his body stiffens as the translation repeats through his little device, followed quickly by a snap of his head in my direction. Goteem.

"Who is this… 'Alonso' and why would they need to know where you are?" he demands sharply, not leaving the device but still leveling me with a glare.

"Oh, you know, just a… friend I made while outside of here. I'm sure I'm being missed terribly right now,"I flippantly respond, knowing that that last part isn't even a joke. Makes me feel really bad about getting my dumb ass captured, I kinda forget I have people that really care over my health and safety at times. I'll get everyone a nice big apology cake for being a dumbass when I get out.

Hawthorne seems mightily displeased with my answer but probably realized that I'm never going to give him a straight answer so he's just dropping it. Damn, I was hoping he'd keep demanding answers so I could laugh at him. He's already getting used to my antics, which is a shame.

LINE BREAK

After many, many hours of just sitting on a table and attempting to heckle and mess with my scientist captor every time he came to take another sample, he finally got back to me with the results of his little test. Not any fix mind you, just him telling me what was wrong.

"It seems like your highly adaptable body is working against you right now. You were even more adaptable than you were supposed to be, and even I'm not sure what caused that, but it's causing the DAS to be produced inside of you in just enough amounts to continually activate. Your DNA was consistently changing forms when I was looking at it, until about an hour after sampling where it stayed inert in a way that was indicative of a Zorua," Hawthorne explains, sitting down and rubbing his face like he had the world's biggest headache after this.

Even more adaptable than I was supposed to be? What could have caused….. Oh no, my Boon. Pokemon moves work on the basis of energy manipulation in specific ways by the Pokemon's body, and this works on an allotment system for the body adapting to and remembering a specific family of moves up to a certain soft limit. Meaning that if I can learn every move in my natural move pool simultaneously…

Well, shit. It's just a theory and I'm sure as fuck not telling Hawthorne, but it's a viable answer to what's causing my current problem. And wait, when the hell did I even learn that about how Pokemon knew moves? I sure as fuck wouldn't have had to ask Arceus if there was a move limit if I already knew that. Well, that's just great, mysterious knowledge now too.

"So, what you're saying is that I'm screwed until my body stops reacting to or reproducing this drug DAS. And until it does, it's going to constantly attempt to activate my currently 'latent' DNA, which is whatever form I'm currently not using?" I skeptically question, trying my best to understand this really fucked up situation. And if this is the case, why the fuck aren't I turning into a Human? Do I not need actual DNA to physically transform?

"In layman's terms… yes. You are going to consistently change, and the only thing keeping you together currently is your Aura working overtime to stabilize your body. This is the most likely reason that your Riolu form is much more stable since you have greater control over your Aura and it is heeding your desire to not change into anything as best it can," Hawthorne says, running his hands down his face in defeat.

I don't quite get why he's reacting so badly to this news, I thought he would be happy that this was temporary and that I wasn't permanently damaged, but instead, he's acting like this is some of the worst news he's gotten in a long while. I quickly voice my concerns to him over this, because I don't like it when the insane doctor executive is acting like everything is about to go wrong.

"Your tests by the other executives start in about 3 hours. There's no time to fix this or evolve you, and if you fail they plan on exterminating you to ensure I don't gain any clout with your creation," he glumly explains. Ah, that would do it. It's not the end of the world or anything, especially since this is exactly what I thought was going to happen anyways, but he is probably extremely dissatisfied about this. Showing off Magnum Opus masterpiece in an incomplete weakened state yada yada yada, insert mad scientist speech about the failures of Mewtwo in the original goal here.

Wait, how long was I unconscious when I was brought in that they were able to completely renovate an arena and set up a test?

"Well, in that case, you should probably feed me so I don't pass out starving in the middle of the test. It's not like you've fed me since I got here or anything," I state, looking over my yellow and blue body and trying to get used to moving around in it.

"What do you mean you haven't been fed?" Hawthorne asks sharply, shooting from his chair as his hair falls back down in front of his face, causing him to push it back again.

"I mean I haven't gotten any food. I've been too busy mutating to really vocalize that though," I explain, throwing a handful of weak punches at the air, trying to gauge my arm length. The answer is 'short', in case you were wondering. God, I hope Counter carries me through this, I don't feel like getting executed for being weak just because I don't know any Riolu moves.

"...I'll have some food brought here then."

A/N

And there's that chapter done. Let me know what you think of this little twist. I plan on enjoying the rest of my day with a metric fuck ton of hot tea, so I have nothing better to do than write more and read reviews.

Peace

-Taldor