Mewtwo's Story

by brycep40

Fifteen years have passed since Mewtwo was last heard of. His crimes were legendary, and his name was feared above all others. Now, he has re-awakened in the hidden gem of Ether Valley; the problem is, he doesn't even remember his own tale. Can he pick up the pieces in time to go head-to-head with an organization intent on nothing but domination? (original plot & characters)

18. Eye of the Hawk

"Mewtwo! Mewtwo! What—"

"Get off of me! Get away! Don't—"

He was in outright distress and completely lost control of his actions. He was shaking violently, making his armor clatter and rattle against the tile floor. The memories of his entire life were swamping his brain, pushing his panic to extreme levels. Mewtwo knocked off the old helmet, exposing his face drenched in a cold sweat.

"Mewtwo, calm down! You're not yourself! Stop flailing about and we can—"

"GET YOUR SLIMY HANDS AWAY FROM ME!"

Mewtwo didn't mean to shout out so loudly, nor did he intend to utter such an insult. Bryce took his hands away at once and looked on with a mixture of fear and devastation. In sharp contrast, Tobuscus was staring hard into Mewtwo's eyes. Anger flared up in an instant, making his pupils contract so that they looked undeniably hawk-like. Mewtwo could feel an intense heat radiating from Tobuscus.

"Apologize!" Tobuscus snarled. "Apologize for what you said, or I'll give you something to really scream about, you effing scumbag—"

"STOP!" Bryce bellowed. Tobuscus and Mewtwo jumped and broke eye contact to look at Bryce.

"Tobuscus, if I ever hear you saying something like that again, we're going to have a serious problem. You hear me?"

Tobuscus nodded sourly.

"Right," Bryce murmured. He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly, glanced at Mewtwo still shaking on the floor, then gasped as he remembered why he was there in the first place.

"What happened!? Why are you here?"

Mewtwo had regained control of himself, but only just. He was trembling like he was suffering from a terrible flu and his head felt like it would split from pain.

"I—I saw—terrible things…"

"Stay down," said Bryce when Mewtwo tried to rise from the floor, "and don't move. Try to keep calm here for a second, won't you?"

Mewtwo nodded shakily, still gasping for breath. The three of them stayed still for a minute or two in the silent laboratory. Mewtwo's breaths were slowly returning to normal pace. When they did, Bryce said, "Okay… try to sit up, now—up you get…"

With quite a bit of assistance from Bryce and Tobuscus, Mewtwo was able to sit upright again. His back fell against the cabinets with a clunk as a spell of dizziness overcame him. The others swam in his view as he closed his eyes and tried to refocus.

Bryce placed a hand on Mewtwo's arm where the armor didn't cover and gently asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I should ask you the same question," replied Mewtwo in a wavery voice. He could tell that his strength was all but gone.

"I was doing some extra work in our office, but that's beside the point," said Bryce. "I have permission to be in the University after hours. You don't. What—well, never mind," he muttered to himself, "Forget I asked why you're here. But anyway, I was walking around the halls to make sure everything was locked up and I saw the lights on in here. I came in and I heard something clattering, so I went to check what it was. You were shaking on the ground and saying stuff like 'No, don't shoot him…' What was going on?"

Mewtwo's stomach churned and felt sick when he remembered what he experienced. The memories weren't like he was witnessing it as a spectator; he saw them in the genuine first person. He remembered it all. The memories felt more terrifying than he could have ever imagined.

"I'm… I… I don't know…" he moaned disjointedly. "I was—I was at Cinnabar where it all—it all started… And then… I…"

He was having real trouble stringing two thoughts together, let alone trying to speak in complete sentences. He couldn't focus, not with so much crap swarming his brain at once. He had to regroup and get his point across, but he hadn't the faintest idea how to do so.

"Look," Bryce said gently, "don't overexert yourself. You're not well right now. Let's go back to my apartment so we can take care of you."

Mewtwo nodded weakly. Before they went to move him, Bryce approached the helmet Mewtwo had knocked off, lying some distance away. He crouched to collect the helmet, which seemed to be letting off some sort of fine vapor.

"OW!"

He withdrew his hand in a flash, waving it violently in the air as if it were burned.

"What? Is it hot?" asked Tobuscus incredulously.

"No!" Bryce said in an injured voice, still waving his hand like a madman. "It's cold! It's like dry ice!"

Tobuscus looked from the helmet to Bryce and back again. He quickly kneeled beside Mewtwo and took his head in his hands, turning it this way and that.

"His face isn't burned…" he said slowly. "Let me see your hands, Mewtwo."

Sluggishly, Mewtwo raised them off of the ground just enough for Tobuscus to hold and inspect each of them.

"Here's a scorch mark!" he exclaimed, pointing to a long, thin line on the back of Mewtwo's hand. Indeed, the mark looked like someone had applied a hot wire to his skin. It glowed an angry red hue.

"Why did the helmet do that?" asked Bryce, looking very concernedly at the helmet lying innocently at his feet. Vapor was still trickling from the outside and dispersing over the tile around it.

"I don't know," Tobuscus said, "but that helmet's dangerous. It made Mewtwo have some sort of experience, and he wasn't in control of his actions. Let it be. Right now, we need to help him." He gestured to Mewtwo who was still leaning against the cabinets, head weaving back and forth as he was now struggling against the binds of sickness and unconsciousness.

Bryce and Tobuscus stooped to haul Mewtwo up under the arms and lift him to his feet. Being quite a heavy Pokémon at nearly two hundred seventy pounds and unable to stand under his own strength, the serious burden of transporting him fell unto the shoulders of those supporting him upright.

It was very slow progress. Leaving the old helmet alone, Bryce collected Mewtwo's new helmet from the adjacent table and carried it under his right arm while supporting Mewtwo with his left. They moved through the lab and out into the sparsely lit hallway. Mewtwo's feet dragged along on the tile, the constant, gentle scrape of his armor's anklets clearly audible.

Mewtwo's senses were thoroughly distorted. His sight was so swimmy and his balance so unsteady that he would have no hope of operating normally, even with assistance.

"Damn it," swore Bryce under his breath after he pressed the button to call a lift, "elevators are out of service. Gotta use the stairs…" His face was reddening from the effort of supporting Mewtwo.

Tobuscus noticed his trainer's apparent fatigue and said, "Bryce, save your energy for driving. I can take Mewtwo up to your car."

"Are you sure?" asked Bryce, glancing around Mewtwo to look Tobuscus in the eye.

"Positive. I wasn't trained to level ninety so my strength would go to naught!"

"You're right," sighed Bryce, "I guess the trainer should've done a little training himself, huh?"

He relinquished his hold, permitting Tobuscus to acquire a secure grip on Mewtwo and raise him over his own shoulders in a fireman's lift. Mewtwo's body was a bit awkward to carry, but Tobuscus had no trouble.

Mewtwo's condition was steadily worsening, but something about the gentle warmth from Tobuscus reassured him more thoroughly than anything else tonight. He knew that, even though Tobuscus had lost his temper just ten minutes before, he really did care.

He could retain consciousness no longer, and he fainted on the shoulders of Tobuscus.

Right as Tobuscus put his foot on the first stair up, he felt whatever tension leave Mewtwo's body as a long, slow exhale escaped his lungs. He stopped dead, making sure that what he feared hadn't actually happened. Standing absolutely still, he listened, feeling the gentle thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat through the chestplate and the extremely deep breaths Mewtwo was drawing.

"Did he just—" started Tobuscus. He couldn't finish his sentence when the realization of what just happened breached him. He gave Mewtwo a little shake. Mewtwo didn't reciprocate, hanging limply in response with his eyes closed. "He's—oh, no…"

"What?" asked Bryce, quickly turning around to look behind him several steps up the staircase, "What's wrong?"

"He's not dead," said Tobuscus. Dull pangs of shock were filtering through his body. "But I think he fainted…"

The first feelings of guilt were creeping in Tobuscus's chest. In a flare of temper, he insulted and threatened the helpless Pokémon now resting unconscious on his shoulders. In one go, he gave a horrible impression that he would have a real job fixing. Reflecting his trainer and himself so poorly was one of the very last things he would dream doing. Tobuscus hoped that helping out like this could atone for his inexcusable actions.

With the stringent conditioning and strength courses he went through in his many months of training, Tobuscus was having no issues carrying Mewtwo up the stairs and out of the University. He was used to dealing with heavier loads before this, anyway. Sidling through the front doors, the two of them walked with renewed vigor to the parking lot through the thickly falling snow. Sparking in the yellow glare of the streetlamps, their breath rose in a thick fog through the freezing air.

"Sit with him in the back, please," said Bryce when they reached his car. He opened one of the rear doors and temporarily held Mewtwo upright while Tobuscus squeezed into the back. Gradually, Tobuscus eased Mewtwo into the backseat and fit him as best as possible. Bryce pushed his feet in after and closed the door.

It nearly looked comical how little room there was in the backseat. Tobuscus was already very tall as it was and wasn't meant to be a passenger in an automobile. Mewtwo's body took up most of the remaining space, lying across the seats with his knees almost brought up to his chest.

"...and snowing too, for God's sake…" muttered Bryce when he opened the driver's door. Getting in and placing Mewtwo's helmet on the passenger's seat, he continued talking to himself. "This Civic is easy enough, but a right-hand drive on top of this kind of weather? I'm surprised I'm licensed to operate motor vehicles in Japan…" He turned in his seat, looked Tobuscus in the eye, and asked, "Are you okay back there?"

"We're as good as we'll ever be," sighed Tobuscus.

"Good," said Bryce. "Don't worry, the ride won't be any more than twenty minutes. Hang in there, and we can get Mewtwo back up and running." He reached into his sports jacket's pocket and added, "I need you to call Tim Bishop for me and ask if he can swing by my place as soon as possible. I can't talk and drive to save my life…"

He withdrew a cell phone and handed it back. Tobuscus took it in his free hand with the words, "No problem."

"Thanks very much, bud," Bryce said with a small smile. He turned the engine over, put the car into first gear (it was a manual transmission), and pulled smoothly out of the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Tobuscus searched for Tim in Bryce's sparse number of contacts; needless to say, it didn't take very long. He touched the "call" prompt and held the device to his ear as the dial tone played.

A few moments passed, and a wan voice spoke up on the other end.

"Bryce, if you want to play games, you should've asked me yesterday evening, not today at one o'clock in the morning."

"Erm…" Tobuscus said, not quite sure how to respond, "This isn't Bryce speaking. This is Tobuscus, his Blaziken."

"Oh!" Tim exclaimed, "I'm so sorry! I assumed it was Bryce calling about—I mean… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have answered like that. My apologies. But I must ask why you're calling at this time, if you don't mind."

"Well," Tobuscus started awkwardly. He wasn't used to speaking to people that weren't face to face. "We found Mewtwo in the Cerulean laboratory and he's—kind of fainted in my lap."

A snicker filtered through the earpiece. Tobuscus sat silently, unamused at the reaction.

"Wait, you're serious?" asked Tim when there was no response.

"Yup," Tobuscus affirmed with a definite frost in his voice. "We need you to come to Bryce's apartment and see what's wrong. Can you do that for us?"

"Yeah, I can do that," said Tim in a much more hurried manner. "I'll be there as soon as I can! Thanks for letting me know!"

"Of course," said Tobuscus. "See you when you get there."

He hung up and returned Bryce's phone in silence. Mewtwo did not wake nor stir. In fact, he really didn't do anything besides breathe. Tobuscus looked down sadly at his face, wondering…

Tobuscus could remember many moons ago, when he was just a Torchic… Bryce was only two years old then, but they grew up together like siblings when Bryce's parents adopted that little Torchic abandoned on the suburban streets of Pennsylvania. They lived far away from the turmoil, separated by thirteen time zones and thousands of miles of land and ocean. The news of deaths, disappearances, and outright distress reached them disconnectedly—not that Bryce could understand it at the time, anyway. Tobuscus was old enough to recall hearing about these events, even if they didn't make much sense to him back then.

Mewtwo was only a myth, a legend borne from rumors, but nobody knew who he was. They couldn't even identify him in the Pokédex. All Mewtwo had to his reputation was the number one hundred fifty; and even then, he was only known as one hundred fifty. But that changed one August day in 1998. The news came out that this new Pokémon, Mewtwo, had committed crimes against humanity, and the whole world learnt that a warrant for his arrest was issued within Japan's borders. A manhunt for the most powerful Pokémon ever created instantly slingshot him to the forefront of conversations everywhere. Barely a month later, the warrant was retracted with no explanation, and the subject dropped with it. Thus, for fifteen years, Mewtwo disappeared from the face of the earth and left only the title of a truly legendary Pokémon for people and Pokémon alike to whisper, fearing his return.

Mewtwo's face twitched, drawing the attention of Tobuscus and fuelling his thoughts and curiosity. How… how did this poor Pokémon lying unconscious in his lap once wield so much power? It simply baffled Tobuscus how such a drastic change could have come about.

The car stopped moving. Tobuscus looked around and realized that the scenery had changed completely. No longer were they subjected to the glare of city lights and headlamps; instead, the sight of trees and a long line of one-story apartments replaced the former. Bryce got out of the car, wrapped in his coat and Mewtwo's helmet in hand, and opened the back door. The rush of freezing air stole the warmth inside in an instant.

Gently, the two eased Mewtwo back out of the car. Tobuscus lifted him back over his own shoulders and transported Mewtwo the short distance from the parking lot to Bryce's apartment. On the dark porch, Bryce fumbled for his keys, mumbling to himself again.

"Hope Tim gets here soon," Tobuscus heard him say as he inserted a key into the doorknob.

The lock clicked. Bryce's apartment door swung open and he entered. Tobuscus followed, bowing slightly through the door frame as a table lamp was turned on.

In the rather small living room, there was an informal dining area immediately to the left. Several things were scattered on the table, mostly personal belongings like books and papers. On the right was a couch facing a coffee table and the television placed in the corner of the room. A hall leading to other rooms stretched away from them on the opposite side of the living room.

Tobuscus approached the couch and delicately lowered his cargo onto it. Mewtwo remained motionless, lying on the couch rather like he had been there sleeping all along. After Bryce had deposited his belongings, he joined Tobuscus to look down on Mewtwo for some time.

"What do you think happened to him?" said Bryce quietly.

"I don't know," replied Tobuscus, shrugging his shoulders, "but it definitely had something to do with that old armor he found. Hopefully Tim will be able to shed some light."

Bryce nodded fervently, eyes full of concern.

"I hope so," he said. Another momentary pause followed before he added, "Let's take off his armor before Tim gets here, yeah?"

Tobuscus nodded. Both of them knelt down, rather like they were tending to a sick person, and began removing the armor piece by piece.

A flash of headlamps filtered through the window blinds, attracting the two's attention. Bryce jumped up immediately and ran outside, leaving Tobuscus to continue the stripping process. A minute later, footsteps approached and in came Bryce again, followed closely by Tim. The latter was dressed in a long black overcoat and had brought along what appeared to be a briefcase. In the stillness of the room, Tobuscus could hear a small intake of breath.

"What happened?" were the first words out of Tim's mouth. He shook off his coat and laid it over the back of the couch. "What's wrong with him?"

"That's what we were hoping you'd figure out," said Tobuscus, looking up from his kneeling position and laying aside a hand guard he had removed.

Tim laid his briefcase on the coffee table and opened it. Tobuscus caught a glimpse of some papers before Tim withdrew a small flashlight. He kneeled to Mewtwo's eye level, held open his eyelids, and flashed the light into each of them. Mewtwo didn't react; his pupils contracted when the strong light was shining into them, but his eyes remained motionless and staring.

Tim stared at Mewtwo, his face straight and set.

"He's unconscious, all right," he said flatly. "And you have no idea why?"

"N—no," Bryce said, his words stumbling slightly, "We found him in the Cerulean Laboratory where you guys did the testing with the Mega Ring. He had his new suit of armor on, but he was wearing the helmet that came with the old suit. He was shaking like mad and we tried to get his attention, but he was outside of his own control. He just about screamed his head off, but we eventually got him to calm down once he knocked off his old helmet. And—the helmet… Tim!" he shouted, startling his two listeners, "the helmet was colder than ice to the touch! There was a scorch mark where it contacted Mewtwo's hand, and I got burned when I tried to pick it up… look here…"

Tim leaned forward to inspect Bryce's outstretched hand, but everyone was thoroughly distracted by a motion that came from Mewtwo. The latter had twisted his neck slightly as if he were stretching it and used his hand to sluggishly grope for his legplate. Tobuscus, who had just been attempting to detach the object in question, withdrew his hands and suspended them in mid-air, watching on and wondering whether or not Mewtwo would finally be released from the binds of unconsciousness.

Without hesitation, Tim dropped back down to Mewtwo's level and directed his flashlight's beam into Mewtwo's eyes again. This time, they were swiveling around before he tried to shut them and protect his pupils from the harsh light.

"Ow!" Mewtwo exclaimed, raising a hand to shield his eyes. "What the—stop that!"

Tim obliged and retreated ever so slightly. Everyone watched on while Mewtwo rubbed his eyes and propped himself up on his elbow. A moment later, he froze, as if he realized something was wrong. He looked around, and Tobuscus saw his eyes travel from Tim, to Tobuscus himself and his hands still hanging in mid-air, to his partially-stripped body, and up to the ceiling. Utter confusion rapidly stole over his features.

"Where—where am I?" he asked slowly.

Bryce moved around the couch and kneeled beside Tim.

"You're in my apartment," he said softly. "You fainted back in Cerulean University when Tobuscus and I were moving you out. I asked Tim to come over and make sure you were all right because you gave us a bit of a scare."

Mewtwo blinked.

"A scare?" he repeated. "What do you mean? What did I do?"

"You fainted, for one thing," said Bryce, a touch of impatience buried deep in his tone, "after you woke up on the floor, screaming. We didn't get a very clear answer concerning what you were doing there in the first place, nor did we find out why you were unconscious on the floor in the laboratories."

Mewtwo's face fell almost immediately. He seemed to have just recalled the events in question.

"Oh…" he mumbled, "yeah… I guess I should tell you what happened, then…"

"If you please," added Bryce, the impatience now bearing a definite bite. "I can go make some tea, if you guys want. Feel free to settle in."

Bryce rose and disappeared into the nearby kitchen. Mewtwo straightened himself, freeing up the remaining space on the couch for Tobuscus to sit next to him and recommence removing the armor. Realizing the intentions, Mewtwo and Tim joined in.

"Sorry about that," Tobuscus muttered, leaning in so that his voice would not carry, "Bryce can get like that sometimes. Don't worry about it."

Mewtwo shook his head without comment. Tim looked like he wanted to add something when Tobuscus glanced towards him, but something about the latter's action kept him silent.

"How are you feeling right now?" Tobuscus asked.

"I'm fine," grumbled Mewtwo, obviously a little miffed at Bryce. "Better than back at the University, anyway."

"What was this all about, anyway?" interjected Tim. "I'm just learning stuff as I hear it from you guys. Can you fill me in?"

Mewtwo opened his mouth but stopped when Bryce re-entered the little living room, carrying all four mugs of steaming tea by their handles. He distributed them accordingly and they all took seats around the coffee table in one form or another. Mewtwo handed his chestplate to Tobuscus, who laid it aside with the rest of the suit. A lengthy silence followed.

Tobuscus looked down at his cup, adding heat to the tea with his hands. Once it was warmed up to his liking (which was very near boiling point), he took a sip. Immediately, he could feel the superheated liquid tickle his insides and ease his mood. He leaned back into the couch cushions, sighing deeply. It was a very long day spent at the University, helping get Mewtwo's armor to him and the several hours he and Bryce had spent after everyone left. It was such a relief to be back somewhere that they could call home.

"All right," said Bryce to break the sounds of others drinking their tea, "let's get to the subject at hand."

Mewtwo gave an uncomfortable glance and shifted in his seat. A frown creased his face. He looked like someone that had been caught in wrongdoing. As this thought drifted through the mind of Tobuscus, he reminded himself that this was actually true; Mewtwo was in fact trespassing on University grounds. But why?

"Mewtwo," Bryce said a bit sternly but not at all unkindly, "we need to know this because it could be very important, and withholding information won't do anyone any good. Now, if you don't mind me asking—"

"I saw the old suit," mumbled Mewtwo. Bryce stopped speaking, looking affronted, but Mewtwo took no notice because he was staring at the mug of tea in his hands. "I saw it in the cabinet yesterday afternoon, and I really wanted to know what it was. After everyone went to sleep, I flew back to the University and used my armor so that I wouldn't run out of stamina getting there. When I realized what was in the cabinet, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I had to try it on… or, at least the helmet, anyway. That thing was cold when I picked it up, and I actually felt it steal the warmth from my fingers and hands. I put it on, and—and…"

"And what?"

Mewtwo shivered.

"I remembered."

Bryce gave a sideways glance to Tobuscus through narrowed eyes. Both recalled that Mewtwo said he had seen "terrible things", but neither could get much more out of him besides something about Cinnabar.

"What d'you mean, 'you remembered?'" asked Tim.

"I remembered everything. It all started at Cinnabar Island in their laboratories there…"

Mewtwo launched into the longest and most heart-breaking tale Tobuscus had ever heard. He told them the true story and what really happened, contrary to what had circulated for over a decade in his absence. He told them about voluntarily joining a man named Giovanni and his Team Rocket, serving as a combatant. He described the other members of the Diamond Squad and the secret missions they partook in. He told about his hand in the deaths of Gengar and his father; Gengar's traveling partner, Pikachu; and countless others. For more than an hour, he talked through anger, tears, and self-disgust. Nobody interrupted the orator this entire time.

Tobuscus, his tea long gone, toyed with the empty mug in his hands, staring into the cold remnants held by the cup. His mind was filled with a sort of blank buzzing as he tried to turn over everything he had heard in his mind.

Finally, the truth. The truth to quench his thirst for knowledge about the most enigmatic Pokémon he had ever encountered. The lies that had been fed to the public were extravagant, but nothing compared to what Mewtwo just delivered to this group. Tobuscus would have never imagined the tale Mewtwo told was the truth, but the way he told it was even more intriguing. He spoke through frustration and remorse the entire time. Mewtwo's persisting tone clearly conveyed hatred of his former self; proof, therefore, that Mewtwo was not at all what he had just described, but instead a Pokémon with very real emotions and sorrows.

Tobuscus suddenly realized that Mewtwo had ceased talking. The latter's eyes were shut tight and his head bowed in attempts to hide his face from apparent shame. He drew an occasional sniff, provoking a flood of pity in Tobuscus's chest. Nothing had ever made him feel such overwhelming sadness, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what Mewtwo was going through.

Nobody spoke for a very long time. The quietness lay like a blanket, punctuated by the barely audible noises of the others handling their empty mugs. Tobuscus glanced sideways and caught sight of Mewtwo's face. He looked thoroughly miserable, as if he had just attended the funeral of a friend. His eyes were glistening while a terrible frown creased his face. Tobuscus wondered if Mewtwo would ever be happy again, considering the heart-wrenching truth.

He couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something to break this atmosphere weighted with sadness, more for Mewtwo's benefit than anyone else's. He tried to speak, but no sound issued from his beak. Again and again he tried, but each attempt came to no avail. Tobuscus knew he had the power of speech, but it felt like someone had robbed his voice. He persisted in opening and closing his beak at intervals, failing over and over again in trying to say anything that would snap the silence.

Finally, Tim looked up and noticed Tobuscus trying and failing to speak. He correctly interpreted Tobuscus's intentions and took the matter into his own hands. He took a deep breath and spoke up.

"Mewtwo?"

The addressed raised his head and glowered at Tim with an exceedingly sullen expression. Mewtwo returned no words.

"I know that this was a horrible thing for you to experience—"

"No you don't."

He spoke quietly but with exceeding force, instantly silencing Tim.

"You have no idea what I felt. You have absolutely no clue what it's like to be the kind of monster I was. You'll never know!"

Mewtwo's voice was rapidly rising to a shout. His knuckles were turning white from gripping his mug so hard in anger. Tobuscus felt something fracture in the atmosphere of that little apartment, and fear was starting to turn his blood cold.

"I wasn't—" began a thoroughly confused Tim, but it was too late.

"D'you know what it's like to murder innocent people and Pokémon? No! Have you ever been as cold-hearted as I was fifteen years ago? No! You don't know what I've had to deal with for nearly two months! My whole life is defined by the past, and I can't fix it! Nobody will remember me for anything good I did! I'll only be remembered for the crimes I committed under Team Rocket! My life has been a train wreck, and… and… AND I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

The empty mug shattered in Mewtwo's hands, littering the carpet with shards of china. His hands were so clenched that it was unlikely they'd release for several years. Pure fury was etched in every line of Mewtwo's face. His eyes were glowing a vile, evil shade of magenta and his teeth were locked tight. A pulsing vein in his temple vividly stood out against his pale skin. His hands began to shiver and shake.

Panic now replaced the fear flowing through Tobuscus's body. If they didn't arrest Mewtwo's emotions right now, he would be sure to hurt somebody in his rage. Tobuscus glanced at Bryce, and knew he was thinking the exact same thing.

"Settle down, Mewtwo," breathed Bryce. He raised his hands slightly, aiding his speech with hand gestures. "Come now, take a breather…"

This, however, only made the situation worse.

"Don't tell me to settle down!" growled Mewtwo through gritted teeth. He jumped to his feet and stared hard into Bryce's eyes, pointing at him and saying, "There's no way you would stay calm. I'd gamble a Master Ball that you've never had to deal with anything more serious than meeting the deadlines on your projects! You just sit on your lazy ass all day in front of a computer screen!"

Anger flared inside Tobuscus like a flash of lit gunpowder. He ascended from the couch in the blink of an eye, primed to give Mewtwo a little retribution for his mistake, but Tim beat him to the punch. Literally.

His fist swung out of nowhere and hit Mewtwo hard in the face, renting the air with a disgusting crunch. Mewtwo lost his balance and fell backwards into an unprepared Tobuscus, causing both to collapse, bang, and bump their way to the floor. Mewtwo's weight crushed Tobuscus against the carpet and knocked all the wind out of his sails. He involuntarily pushed Mewtwo sideways, trying to give himself some breathing space and space to breathe. As he tried to regain his breath, Mewtwo was struggling to raise himself off of the floor. Tobuscus saw Tim's shadow tower over them and glimpsed his face, distorted by a frenzy of rage. He almost raised his fist to deliver another blow to an incapacitated Mewtwo, but Bryce rushed forward to hold Tim's fist at bay.

"You're out of line, Mewtwo," Tim breathed. "If all you ever do is live in the past, you might as well not be living. Stop sitting around in the past; stand up and walk. Keep moving forward. You've got two good legs, so get up and use them. You have regrets? Stop pitying yourself and work towards the change you desire."

He tried to wrench his fist out of Bryce's grasp, but the latter held him fast. Mewtwo stopped his struggling, staring back at Tim. In a heartbeat, his expression sunk into an utterly crestfallen look. He lay on the floor as he spoke.

"I… I never wanted to live the way I did in the past. Living my entire existence as nothing more than a test subject, how could I have known what was right and what wasn't? All I knew at that time was I wanted an escape. No matter the means, I wanted to be free. I thought that through Team Rocket I could gain the freedom that I desired, and live the way I was meant to. Move forward? It's hard to move forward when I never learned how to walk in the first place. It was only now, fifteen years later, that I finally understood the true meaning of living. I finally understood what I had been missing all those years ago." Mewtwo's voice softened as he continued.

"For the longest time I would look at the Pokémon we were told to observe puzzled, as I never understood how they could be so happy. What did they have that I never experienced? How could they view the world as anything more than an obstacle to survival? I saw the expression Pikachu gave to Clefable in her last moments, yet none of it resonated. The pained yet gleeful expression she made, I never truly figured it out back then. Now that I finally understand that meaning, I will never have the clean slate to truly live my life… The life I have now, it can never truly be real."
Silence filled the room. The pain in Mewtwo's voice echoed in the atmosphere. Tim, still outraged by Mewtwo's behavior, gradually loosed his grasp of the tight fist he had made. He sighed with frustration, giving an apologetic look to Bryce and Tobuscus.

"Look, Mewtwo, we get it. No, we don't know how it felt, but life is not the bundle of joy it's cracked up to be. Hell, would I be doing research as my living if it was? All we want is to be able to help you; like it or not, we are all stuck on this planet, and we choose how to live it. We choose. There's always a choice. Take the past as the experience needed to turn you into the strong being you are today; a strong being who has a choice, whether he wants to help the world or destroy it."

"I never wanted that responsibility, I just wanted to live!" Mewtwo retorted, desperation in his voice.

"Ah, but unfortunately, nothing could be done about that. You were chosen with this responsibility by something outside human control. Yet, even with this responsibility in your life, you care enough to take it seriously. All of the stress, regret, and pain dictates just how perfect you were to be chosen to help the world, Mewtwo. You weren't made for destruction, you were made to stop it. The power you have was entrusted to you. That being said, you have the will to use this power in the way you want. Neither the past nor the future will ever change that."

"Even so… it's not that easy," grumbled Mewtwo. "To make a choice that will affect the entire world, let alone while I'm trying to figure myself out, really screws with my mind. Just look at what's happened here; I've almost hurt people I care about, and I'm expected to save everyone? I'm expected to save everyone knowing that I'm alone in this? There's no one to guide me on what's wrong and right. Who's to say I won't make the wrong choice again? No one understands how I feel... I'm only expected to act without regards to these thoughts that eat away at my mind constantly."

"That's not true."

It was not Tim that spoke this time, but Bryce. He stepped out from behind Tim and addressed Mewtwo with a sullen face.

"You're not alone, Mewtwo. You may be unique, but you're not alone. It may be you and only yourself that has the power to make a change of monumental proportions, but we'll always be there to back you up when you need it."

Tobuscus was still on the ground, ready to grab hold of Mewtwo should he jump up again and attack. However, the fight in Mewtwo seemed to dissipate, rendering him fairly motionless.

"Come on, now," said Bryce gently, "we're all friends here. Let's act like it."

The cue was taken. On the way to his feet, Tobuscus offered his hand to Mewtwo. He took it without hesitation, and Tobuscus pulled Mewtwo upright again. Now in relief of the lamp light, Mewtwo was sporting a brilliant bruise on his cheek and a black eye to match. The sight made Bryce and Tobuscus cringe, but Tim didn't back down. On the contrary, he took a step forward, an expression of deepest regret evident on his face and in his composure.

"I'm sorry," muttered Tim ashamedly. "I shouldn't have ever lost my temper like that. I was the one out of line, not you. I—"

Evidently, nothing could have prepared Tim for what followed. Mewtwo stepped forward, arms outstretched, and embraced him.

The most peculiar expression—one which could most accurately be described as a mixture of blank shock and dull surprise—swept Tim's face. It was quickly replaced by the smallest of smiles as he buried his face in Mewtwo's shoulder and wept at his forgiveness.