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00.
PROLOGUE
The snow whirled outside the hovel, flurrying with the force of a blizzard. The wind howled in the distance, its screeches whistling through the far-off branches. The inside of the hollow tree kept Espeon Ann safe from the snow, but the chill was pervading. It crept between the bark and splinters of the wood, slipping through her fur and biting at her skin. Espeon weren't designed for cold – most of her sluggish body was past the point of hurting, and she couldn't feel the tip of her tail.
She'd fought hard for the den; when every creature in the forest had known the blizzard was coming, places to nest were taken up and fought over quickly. Defending her home meant she had less energy to forage for anything that could protect her from the winds. What she had gathered was insufficient.
Curled up within the chilly den, she huddled down tighter in an effort to conserve what little of her body heat remained. Her breath came out in puffs; she could sense it was far below freezing. The cold made her sluggish. It was so easy to drift off... something in the back of her head erupted, weak and faint - a memory of her father, a flareon who towered over her, telling her that going to sleep in such cold meant you wouldn't wake up again. But it felt so distant, so far away. It was kind of comfortable, actually. She couldn't feel the cold biting at her skin as much anymore. Everything about her felt like it was locking down, lulling her off to a calm, deep rest, which she floated along towards...
But something strange happened. Her ears perked towards a sudden vacuum of sound as the screeching winds of the sinnohean blizzard suddenly died down.
Warmth flooded through her, the chill in the air seeming to evaporate in an instant. It was like her body unlocked, the sudden warmth thawing her out. Calm was replaced with terror-what had she been thinking? She'd come so close to... to...
What had happened?
She looked behind her, at the entrance to the den. The snowflakes outside were suspended in midair. Silence fell over the land outside of her tree, leaving nothing but the sound of her own breathing. Even the chill seemed to gone entirely, the warmth feeling like a sunny winter day. It was as if time had stopped everything in the world, except for her.
A sudden white flash outside the den caught the espeon's eyes. It disappeared as fast as it had come, and when it was gone she felt the wind change. She could sense it: someone was there.
Something inside her strung her along, urging her to investigate. After all, if everything had stopped except for her, then it meant whoever was outside wanted a word (where had that thought come from?).
Before she knew what she was doing, compelled, she crept out of her den, marveling at the petals of snow that hung around her. She batted at one, watching how it exploded into powder before her eyes.
Legends are positions, not people.
The voice made her gasp in fright and jump a few feet back. It came from everywhere and nowhere at once; she wasn't even sure if it was sound. She looked around frantically, trying to see where it had come from, but the trees that were still as everything else held no answers for her.
He descended from above. The bright shine followed him as he floated down, his gold-capped hooves touching the snow with a satisfying plink. Larger than the trees, his body shimmered like a mirage, lighting the area around him in a soft blue glow.
The espeon tried to stammer out something. It didn't resemble words. How could it? She couldn't even string together a coherent thought right now. Not when presented with… all this.
Arceus deftly stepped forward, and bent over until he could reach the crouching espeon's level.
"Every legend was an ordinary human or pokemon before I lent them a portion of my power," he continued in the espeon's silence. He seemed to be unconcerned with introductions. "A position is open, and I require a replacement. So I extend my offer now to you: How would you like to become the Legendary Mew?"
If the situation had been hard to process before, it was impossible now. The espeon blinked once, then twice, then again.
"W-what?"
"I will allow some time for you to process," Arceus rumbled. "Five minutes should be sufficient."
Five minutes wasn't sufficient, could never be sufficient, but the espeon put it together after a bit. The shock wasn't lessened, but it all started to make sense. She'd been… chosen. Chosen. For something. To be… Mew. The Mew. The Mew spoken of in old legends and folktales, the one that appeared next to Arceus on every mythological drawing there was. That Mew.
And despite herself, despite the shock, the idea made her legs tremble in excitement, thoughts awash with visions of power and magnificence. Was this... real? Was she delirious? Was everything taking place in her head, as her body froze and became lifeless?
"Why… me?" was all she could ask, awed.
"Why not?" Arceus responded.
That didn't feel right. All of the sudden, things felt just a bit wrong.
"Y-you had to have a reason," she stammered.
"My reasons are my own. Arceus' demeanor suddenly changed. The air shifted, becoming more urgent, some of the blizzard's cold creeping back in. Before, he had crouched down to meet her at her level. Now, he stood tall, foreboding. She found herself shrinking back by instinct. Something about it put her off. "Do you doubt my judgement?"
Still crouched back in fear, the espeon shook her head. The fear of the cold suddenly returned to her, her breath fogging up in front of her. All of the sudden, her life dangled on a string. She could be back in the hovel, weak and starving and freezing to death, with a single word.
"I require an answer from you now," Arceus boomed, and the sky seemed to darken with his words. "Will you take my offer? Remember that this is once in your lifetime. Millions will live and die without ever being presented with an opportunity such as this.
"Or would you rather return to what must be certain death within this blizzard?"
He added with a rueful tone. This would be a waste of talent.
That struck something into her like nothing else did. This being… he was mocking her. Acting like she wouldn't take it. Acting like she was too weak.
"Five minutes have passed," boomed Arceus. "Answer me now or answer me never."
"I accept," the espeon said firmly, standing up proud.
"Your final decision?" Arceus asked.
I accept," she said again.
"Louder. With more conviction."
"I accept!" the espeon shouted, loud enough to match Arceus in volume.
A solemn expression overtook Arceus' face. He seemed satisfied.
"Then so be it."
A stamp of Arceus' hooves into the ground below, and bright, colorful streams of power swirled out of his chest. It materialized into the form of a radiant pink orb that floated above the ground in front of the espeon. She squinted, turning her head away; it was too bright for her to look at in the dark of the night.
"Make contact with the orb."
At that moment, with the deep pink, shining orb as large as she was floating right before her, it struck Espeon Ann as how crazy this all was. Maybe it really was all some sort of fever dream, something she'd made up to convince herself there was a way out. Maybe she'd already frozen to death and this was her dying vision, before she disappeared forever.
But she padded forward, feeling the power ripple out against her. And taking a leap of faith, lowered her face against it until her forehead and nose touched against its cool, glassy surface.
The orb began to shine brightly, so bright she had to shut her eyes, and then a flash of radiant pink burned through her eyelids.
And all went first white, then black.
\|R|/
It storms. A fierce tropical system that will not hit any large landmass but sends sheets of rain down towards the water below. Thunder rumbles through the distance, low and mighty through the rough, churning sea.
The sleek, black chopper flies over the waves, through walls of ice-cold sleet. Rain slams the roof of the helicopter like bullets, but the man sitting in the back seat isn't perturbed. He hasn't been for a while. He wears a suit for the occasion, and a trenchcoat for the weather. Half of his head is covered by a sleek fedora, as midnight black as the rest of his clothing. He looks up; his eyes catch light from under the brim.
One of the helicopter pilots turns back in his seat to face the man. A red "R" is emblazoned upon the pilot's helmet.
"Sir, we're approaching our destination."
Giovanni nods, sitting comfortably in his seat with black-gloved hands in his lap. He says nothing.
The helicopter comes to a swift landing at the bank of a vast cliff. The rolling grass fields wildly flurry every which way from the wind. Giovanni disembarks from the helicopter and confidently strides across, keeping hold of his fedora as he walks towards a large, chrome spire in the distance.
NEWFOUND ISLAND ~ THREE YEARS LATER
The reinforced metal doors of the building slide open with a hydraulic hiss as Giovanni walks in. A barrage of rain and wind is sealed outside when they close behind him.
"Mr. Boss, sir!" The two guards at the door immediately straighten up and give him the salute of Team Rocket: one fist against their heart. Giovanni silently acknowledges it and strides further into the building.
A frazzled-looking man in a lab coat scurries out to meet him. He sports long, wavy hear, a goatee, and looks like he's been existing purely on coffee for the last twelve days.
"Mr. Giovanni, sir," he acknowledges, bowing his head in respect, but he doesn't salute. "Y-you didn't have to come all this way. There's a storm out, you know?" laughing nervously, he gestures to one of the windows, where the furious rain can be seen but barely heard.
"I've come to check up on my investment," says Giovanni. "I have been told you've been running frequent tests here. Allow me to sit in on a few."
That's enough to make the man look more than a little nervous. But he nods, and waves Giovanni after him. "This way, please.
"Now, keep in mind, all those frequent tests we've been running…"
The man leads Giovanni into a large chamber, where last-minute preparations are being performed on a complex, white machine as tall as two stories. "They're not exactly indicative of success. M-more the opposite. We've been attempting the process with several strand types of DNA, and with each test the available pool of eligibility for a successful experiment narrows and narrows. Luckily! Luckily, we are about to perform the final one of these tests right now…"
They walk up metal scaffolding stairs into a compartment with a large glass window and an overhead view of the experiment.
"Sit right here," the man says, pointing Giovanni to a cushioned spectator's seat, and then hands him a pair of sunglasses. "You'll want these."
Wordlessly, Giovanni sits, putting the sunglasses on. He's expecting to be impressed.
The man dons his own pair of sunglasses, then walks up to the front of the glass compartment and speaks into an earpiece: "Are we ready?"
"All systems are online, sir," comes the response.
The man nods, then switches on a microphone wired into the floor. His voice blasts out into an intercom down below.
"Prepare to commence experiment number 0034 in T-minus 30 seconds and counting." The man straightens up, and suddenly it's like he's a whole new person. He pulls out a silver, slightly rusted pocketwatch, and keeps the time with it. When the seconds count down to ten, he begins to count down with them.
"Ten. Nine. Seven. Six…" The countdown blares out into the room below.
The machine begins to stir, filling the room with a deafening whir. Countless transparent wires and tubes all around the room suddenly shine with pure white energy, all converging into the glass tank in the middle. The room Giovanni is sitting in begins to tremble, and so does the building around them.
The light suddenly becomes too bright for either of them to look at. Giovanni is forced to shield his eyes, even through the sunglasses.
When it fades, the machine has stirred down, and the whirring fades out. The glass chamber is empty, except for a single bulbasaur that lies in the tank. Unmoving. It is immediately swarmed by scientists, who hook it up to wires and check its vitals and brainwaves.
"Status?" the man askes into the microphone.
"Perfectly healthy," a voice responds back. "Just like all the others."
"Brainwaves?" the man presses. The response comes back, more hesitant.
"Vitals and nothing else, sir. Just like all the others."
The man sighs, gazing intently at the glass. Giovanni surveys the scene. An expression of interest has broken his normally cold face.
"What do you need?"
The man looks back. Giovanni gets up from his seat, and calmly walks over until he is right next to the man. "What do you need to make it work?"
The answer is insignificant; whatever Doctor Fuji needs, it's a drop in the bucket. The payoff will be worth ten times the amount of money sunk into this project anyway. The successful harnessing of Infinity Energy he has witnessed today has proven that.
Doctor Fuji sighs, his hands wringing his lab coat, skin tight against his knuckles. He utters his next words carefully:
"This experiment showed us that we can replicate a body from scratch, but not a consciousness. That will need to be grown naturally, and it will need a specific gene group to withstand the energy levels used in the creation process."
The question doesn't change.
"What do you need."
Dr. Fuji stares at the window at the large chamber for a bit, then turns to Giovanni. He can only bear to face Giovanni's boots.
"In order to create what you are asking me for, I will need a strand of DNA from a Legend. It's the only thing capable of sustaining that much infinity energy."
"Done."
Fuji looks up in genuine surprise, but Giovanni's face betrays nothing.
"Y-you can get me that?" he asks incredulously, some of his former stutter coming back into his voice.
"The next time I visit, I will have your DNA supplied for you," Giovanni says. "I am impressed with what I am seeing, Doctor Fuji. Continue impressing me."
Like businessmen, they shake hands. The gesture is cold and means nothing.
"H-have a safe trip back," Fuji offers in a halfhearted attempt to end on a warmer note, but Giovanni is already walking away.
