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03.

THE FORSAKEN SCIENTIST

Eighteen Months Ago

Once upon a time, John Smith Fuji had been a normal man, unremarkable in every way. He went to school, like everyone else. He went on a pokemon journey, like everyone else. And, like most of the kids his age, he realized pokemon training wasn't for him when he ran out of food halfway through viridian forest and had to backtrack to the pokemon center in the town and call his parents to pick him up.

He graduated high school with average grades, coasted through college with a middling gpa and the enthusiasm of any other student, and went on to pursue a biology degree in higher universities. Right out of college, he worked as an intern at the Pewter University of Science for year, then scored a job as an underpaid assistant There was absolutely nothing remarkable about him.

After three years of living off freezer meals and barely keeping up with the rent of the small apartment he lived in, Fuji got a new job working as a geneticist at the Silph Company in Saffron City.

He met a fellow researcher at his job who shared many of his interests and passions, and like most others, they fell in love. Their wedding was only a year later.

They had been married for two years when they had a baby. When that baby was born, it was the brightest moment of Fuji's life. They named her Amber, for the legacy they hoped she'd leave behind.

The daughter of two scientists, Amber grew fast and took to the messy, cluttered lab that they called home. When Amber was three, Fuji began to let her hang around the lab as he went about his work. When she was five, she was allowed to leave the stroller when in the lab. And when she was seven, she was looking over Fuji's shoulder as he typed away at his computer.

When Amber turned seven, the three of them went out to eat for her birthday. They strolled down to the park to watch some of the ongoing battles in the area afterwards.

At some point, Fuji lost Amber's hand. They never found her.

That was the beginning of the end.

Amber was assumed dead a month after she disappeared. The authorities said that she had run out into the street and been hit by a car. The body was on display during the funeral, but Fuji couldn't bear to look at it. He didn't have it in him.

A few months after the funeral, the divorce came. Fuji poured himself into his work, but as more and more time passed, he became distant. He stopped paying his bills, and at some point stopped turning in his papers for work.

Work sacked him after a few months of delay and several unreturned calls and emails to reach out. He got a notice a few weeks later that the water would shut off, and the lights would go not soon after. He didn't read it. He spent his days lying around on his cot, staring up at the wall, idly wondering what could have been. What he could have done differently. How much longer he had to live like this. When he closed his eyes, instead of darkness he saw one scene, playing over and over: the last time he saw her bright smile and gleaming hazel eyes in that park.

He would have died on that bed, if his door hadn't been kicked in.

Fuji scrambled up from his bed in a haste when he heard the sound of breaking wood, and light from the outside flooded the living room of his house. Brushing his long locks of dirty, unkempt hair from his vision, he only had time to get on his feet and kick some of the empty food containers out of the way before he saw who was coming in.

Unlike Fuji, the hair of the man who entered was well-groomed, slicked back, and black as night. He wore a clean suit of a very dark blue variety that fit over him snugly, and over that a fancy designer coat of the same color. Two men in what looked like black military gear flanked him on either side. From the looks of the boots they were wearing, one of them must have kicked in the door.

"E-excuse me," Fuji began, his voice hoarse and brittle from days of going without water. "What are you doing in—"

"Dr. John Smith Fuji, correct?" the man cut in. His voice was elegant and pleasing to the ears, and he spoke with a charisma that made Fuji want to stop and listen to him. "Ph.D in genetics and experienced in the study of infinity energy?"

Left flabbergasted, Fuji could only nod. "Y-yes. That's me. Now d-do you want to explain why you kicked in my door and disturbed me in the middle of my—" he looked at the couch he had been laying on "—perfectly normal nap?"

Instead of answering, the man just walked forward. Thousand-dollar boots gracefully stepped on dirty carpet and around empty containers of dollar ramen.

"Why, Doctor Fuji," he said. "I've come to save your life."

"I don't want to be saved." The words came out of his mouth without his consent; he felt numb everywhere. "Just let me die."

"You don't mean that." The voice in his ear now, its richness disarming him.

"I do."

"Why don't you sit down?" the man said.

"Are you some kind of psychiatrist?" Fuji asked. "Because I don't need one. You can tell whoever's paying you to—"

"I'm not a psychiatrist," the man said, stopping Fuji mid-sentence once again. "And this is not an intervention. Now let's sit down."

"But I…" Fuji was rapidly failing to come up with even a full sentence in defense. "You're telling me to sit down in my own house?"

"You'll feel better," the man said. "Just sit down and relax."

So Fuji did the only thing that he really could do at that point, and sat down. The man sat with him.

"You must be hungry, correct?" the man asked him. Fuji hadn't been hungry up to that point, but when the man pointed it out, his stomach growled.

A gloved finger the color of night snapped. "Bring this man a proper meal."

Food was brought in on a steaming platter—a medium rare slowpoke tail with all the trimmings. Fuji's stomach, which had subsisted off dollar store ramen and candies for the last few months, did a flip at the sight. He had not eaten in days and was hungry. So he ate, if for no reason other than to satisfy his body.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked after a long period of silence punctuated only by Fuji's chewing. He sat on the cot beside Fuji, watching him with a sense of calmness that made Fuji feel calm too. All the same, something about him stirred slight feelings of uneasiness.

"You look like you own something," Fuji croaked out, looking at the man's expensive-looking coat.

"I own many things," the man said. "Including, as of last week, the genetics division of the Silph Company."

"The division I worked in," Fuji noted. It was all beginning to make sense now.

"Yes," the man continued. "Ironically, we acquired that division just for you, but learned a day after our buy over that you had been let go. Of course, after looking at your resume, I knew I had to meet you myself. No matter the cost."

Fuji knew what was coming next. So before the man could say anything, he stood up, and pushed the coffee table out.

"I'm not interested," he said.

"Interested?" the man didn't skip a beat. "I haven't offered anything yet."

"Yet," Fuji began. "You kick in my door, you mention my titles, you offer me lunch, you buy my workplace. That's a textbook job offer if I've ever seen one. Well, I appreciate the thought, but I'm not interested. I just want to take a nap."

"I think…" the man loudly spoke as Fuji trudged towards the stairs. Fuji stopped, noticing that he had stood up as well. "You'll be very interested in this offer, if you just hear me out to the end."

"I think I won't," Fuji said, and then he began to trudge off again.

"Then let me cut to the chase," the man replied. "How would you like to resurrect the dead?"

And once again, Fuji was at the whims of this man he'd never met before and knew nothing about. He slowly turned around.

"But that's impossible," he said.

"Not with infinity energy," said the man. "I've recruited scientists from around the region to build me a machine that can harness infinity energy to create new life. And they have. Now, all we need is a geneticist."

"It's not possible," Fuji said. "Even if it were, the amount of infinity energy you would need is immeasurable. There's no way we could get that power."

"Unless there is," said the man. "You aren't the first to tell me exactly that. And believe me when I say that I would not be financing this project unless I had found a way forward."

Fuji stopped for a minute, and considered. If what this man was saying was true… then he'd just been given another chance. He could get his daughter back.

All the same, something about it didn't seem right. How did this man know about his daughter? How did he know what buttons to push? He must have known more about Fuji than any normal person would.

If Fuji had to guess, he was a rich and powerful man who could get that information if he needed it. But on the other hand, stomping into his living room with two hired goons didn't seem like something a powerful, law-abiding businessman would do.

But on the other hand once again… the fact that there were two armed men in this living room meant that he might leaving this room willingly, or against it.

And now that he thought about it, this man was offering him a line. An escape. Even if it turned out to be false, a dead end, he could at least say he'd tried everything.

"Go on," he said. "How are you going to collect enough energy to power this machine of yours?"

"We have our sources," the man replied. "We've been collecting them for a while. Enough reserves to last us a year and a half, if we need that long. And much, much more where that came from. Trust me, Doctor, you'll be well provided."

"Then you have yourself a deal," Fuji said.

"Excellent."

Fuji's withered palms met black leather gloves, and the two men shook on it.

"What should I call you?" Fuji asked.

"Many of my employees call me 'boss'," the man said. "You, may call me Giovanni."

\|F|/

Present day

The waves crash against the massive cliff below. They sound like thunder, but for now, there is no storm. Clouds hang in the night sky, but they are the thin clouds that the moon easily shines through. A chilly breeze blows the fields of grass in a single, unified direction.

A procession waits on that cliffside, standing among the grass with their coats blowing in the wind. In the middle of them, a curly-haired man with his hands clasped behind his back awaits.

They aren't kept waiting long. In the distance, a black speck soon makes itself visible, the sound of distant whirring and chopping audible over the wind. As the speck gets larger and forms into the outline of something familiar, the sound of spinning propellers begins to get louder. The thunderous chopper approaches the island, the whirring of its blades nearly deafening as it touches down in front of the group and blows the grass every which way.

The helicopter door opens, and a man steps out. He wears only a suit and a fedora this time, making his way down the stairs of the helicopter effortlessly. Sewn onto the vest pocket of his suit is a single red "R". Behind him, two men walk out, carrying a sealed metal case.

The leader of Team Rocket walks up to the curly haired man, and then stops. The six scientists around the curly haired man salute in unison—their fists to their chest. A second later, the man reluctantly follows.

"Doctor Fuji," the Boss speaks. His voice is clean and pleasant to the ears.

"Mr… Boss," Fuji responds in kind.

"Most gracious of you to meet us at our landing point," the Boss continues. "Though I assure you there is no need." He gestures to the metal case the two grunts behind him carry. "We'll discuss more inside.

"Walk me through the rest of the process, now that you have your required material," the Boss says, following Dr. Fuji into the lobby of the great New Island Spire.

"E-excuse me, sir," Dr. Fuji says, "but if I may ask: How did you get this?"

"Let me worry about the nitty gritty…" the Boss says, putting a gloved hand on Fuji's shoulder. "And you worry about what's going on over here. Now, if you may be so kind as to brief me."

Fuji recognizes this is a signal that the Boss will say no more on the topic, which means he is best off switching gears. And so he does.

"Now that we have the sample, we'll run the DNA through our sequencer," he says, "and from it construct a genome that will properly incubate during the creation process."

"And the turnover?"

"Whenever it's ready," Fuji says. "We've never worked with this kind of DNA before. It could behave... unpredictably."

If Giovanni has an objection, then he doesn't show it. He takes a deep breath, then utters the exact words Fuji wants to hear:

"Well, contact me when you have a usable specimen. You know how to reach me. Keep up the good work, Fuji."

Left agape, Fuji can only nod.

"T-thank you, sir," he stammers out. The Boss turns around, and the grunts follow him as he walks down the stairs and towards the large metal door. The hiss of hydraulics sounds off as the door opens for him, then closes in his wake. And only when he's gone, and Fuji is sure he won't come back, does he relax.

He's done it.

The specimen is carted up towards the lab, where it will be sequenced into a usable genome for the life-creation machine. After the sequencing, its structure can be used to create something that never existed before. Something that shouldn't exist. Something to rival the Legends.

But it will also be used to create something else. Or rather, to bring something else back. A soul from beyond the brink. A lost dream, snared and brought back into the world of the living.

Fuji enters his personal study, shuts the door behind him, and locks it with shaking fingers. He sits down in his chair, pulling a silver pocketwatch out of his vest and staring down at it. It's dusty, and the hinges are nearly rusted off. He doesn't open this watch much, not much at all. But now, it means more to him than it has for the past year. Because he's one step closer to resurrecting her.

Once he gets the machine working—truly working—he'll do what others only told him was impossible, and bring her back to life. And once he has her back, he can finally begin to start putting his life back together again.

\|R|/

Before

Four Years Ago

The passage from the private helipad led down a flight of stairs and through a hallway with harsh lighting. A few men dressed in identical black militaristic gear passed Giovanni on the way in. They immediately made way for him and then spoke amongst each other in excited hushes once he had passed. Being in the same hallway as the Boss was a once in a lifetime dream for some of them, the lesser common backbone grunt of his organization.

Finally, he reached the end of the hallway, and walked out onto an elevated metal walkway. From here, he overlooked the massive chamber below filled with military machines of all kinds. Black-uniformed grunts swarmed around the trucks and helicopters and tanks below. From up here, they looked like ants. This was the army of Team Rocket.

Giovanni stayed for a minute or two, appreciating the silent display of power that was possible all because of him. But he couldn't stay for long; he had more important matters to attend to. He tore himself away from the sight, walking down the walkway on the trip to his personal office.

His office was occupied when he got there.

Ariana, one of his executives, jumped up from her seat on the setpiece stool in front of his fireplace as he entered the room. He looked at her, but his face darkened when he noticed the 13-year-old boy who sat near her.

"Care to explain?" he addressed Ariana, his voice a low growl. He pointedly did not acknowledge the boy. "I thought I told you this boy is not to be seen in my presence."

Only a second later, the boy let out a raspy cough, and Giovanni was forced to look at him. He looked sickly, like he might collapse at any minute.

"The medicine division told us they didn't have a bed for him," Ariana quickly explained.

"So you brought him here?" Giovanni growled.

"I wanted you to

see how sick he is," Ariana responded.

"We agreed this child would never be let within my sight again," Giovanni said, his voice settling into something dangerously calm. "I have no use for malnourished brats who have no hope of passing the grunt program."

"Well, you have a use for me, don't you?" Ariana raised her voice. "He's

sick. Just get him a bed and medicine and you won't see him again."

Giovanni took in her defiance for a moment. But he let it pass. Because she was right: he did have a use for her.

He wrote something down on a slip of paper, then handed it to her. "That will get you the medicine and medical care you need. Tell them it comes on my authority."

Ariana took the paper, muttered something to him he didn't catch, and then hastily escorted Silver out. Giovanni watched them go. He could only count his lucky stars the boy took after Ariana in looks and not him. As far as the rest of the Rocket Division was concerned, he was the child of a random grunt somewhere in the base. Ariana handled the accusations admirably, but Giovanni's image could not be tarnished like that. The Boss was the bastion of Team Rocket, an image of radiant perfection that every grunt was told they may one day follow in the footsteps of. He must appear better. He must appear perfect.

But it was now time to shuffle that concern aside, because he had a more important visitor to tend to right now.

"You may come out now," Giovanni announced, turning his attention towards the spot near the bookcases that shimmered weirdly.

The spot began to ripple, and soon a floating, azure creature with catlike features was visible to him in its place. Giovanni took a seat in his personal chair, keeping his eyes lazily trained on the creature as they looked towards the empty seat.

"By all means—sit." Giovanni gestured to the visitor's chair in front of the desk. "We have a lot to discuss."

Mew floated over, and sat in the chair.

"First things first, now that the vetting process is done," Giovanni began. "I'm interested to know what brings you to me. What possesses a member of the world's uppermost elite to come down here and sell to the boss of Team Rocket?"

"I want out," Mew said without hesitation.

"You want out?" Giovanni prompted. "Curious. Do go on."

"What else is there to say?" Mew asked, almost scoffed. "I'm done. I've had it up to here with Arceus and all his constant mismanaging. He's—His decrees are several centuries in the past, he has no regard for others' health or life, not even the people he's supposed to work with, and to top it all off, he's lied to us. Not just me and the rest of the Legendarian Order. The entire

world. I've watched him lie to others, lie to their face, without skipping a beat. I've seen him mistreat and ignore his underlings without a shred of mercy. Year after year, I've seen him order calamities that end the lives of thousands, just because they inconvenienced him. He is unfit for power, but he's not going to change, he's not going to listen. I'm the person closest to him, I know it better than anyone! But something has to. And if it won't be Arceus, then it's going to be me."

"Interesting," said Giovanni. "And you view this partnership as a way to 'make something give', as you put it?"

"I view it as a 'screw you'."

"I see." Giovanni marked this all down on a touchpad. He would normally have prescripted his secretary, Matori, for such things, but the unique circumstances of this meeting made it impossible. "Let's backtrack a bit. What did you mean when you said he lied to the world?"

"I mean he's lying," Mew shrugged. "About everything. Where to start…" A sardonic laugh. "Well, let's start with the bit about Arceus being born from an egg and creating the world we know today. That's a lie. That's the biggest lie of them all. There's thousands of people out there

believing this, and he made it all up. The Legendarian Order hasn't even existed for more than 3000 years, when—surprise surprise—all those creation myths about Mew and Arceus started springing up."

Giovanni waited and listened in silence. Little of this came as a surprise to him; the initial startle when the visitor to see him turned out to be Mew was all. He was not complaining. This valuable information to be catalogued and used was falling straight into his hands, and he hadn't even had to torture anyone to get it.

"And then the next part of the creation mythos, the Big Ones. Dialga and Palkia. Groudon and Kyogre. Yveltal and Xerneus. They're real, but they're so strong even Arceus doesn't stand a chance against them. He doesn't want that to get out, not even to the other Legends. Nothing to contest his status as the ultimate being. Even as our whole Legendarian Order does damage control to keep them from surfacing. They don't even know what they're protecting.

"And here's the biggest kicker: Legends are positions, not people. Anyone can become one, if they're bestowed the divine power. See,

that's how he gets you. He comes down from his big, shiny hall up in the mountains, and asks you if you want to be a god. Who says no to that? No-one I can think of. But once he has you… He doesn't care about you anymore. He just puts you to work, remains deaf to your pleas, and strips you of your powers when you fail. He doesn't know how many lives he's ruined because of that, how many people couldn't go back to being normal after that."

Mew stopped, realizing he had been rambling for a while. Noticing the silence, Giovanni finishes typing the words into the touchpad and looks at his visitor.

"This is all very valuable information, thank you."

"It's only a taste of everything else I can give you."

"Do you not have concerns about your choice in buyer?" Giovanni asked, already knowing the answer. "Why not take your grievances public?"

"If I take it public, the entire Legendarian Order will stand against me. I'm giving it to someone with a chance, someone not on their radar. I'm gonna sucker punch him where it counts, and then I'm going to vanish. You make me disappear and give me enough money to set me up for a good long while, and I'll pull all the information out of the Hall of Origin you could ever ask for."

"Then it seems we have reached a satisfactory arrangement," Giovanni said with a final few clicks into his touchpad. He leaned forward, clasping his hands. "If you will disguise yourself accordingly, my secretary Matori will hash out the fine print legalities with you."

"That can happen."

They shook, hand to paw.

"May this partnership spell a bright future for us both."