CHAPTER 8: THE DEFEAT

As Kamaria blacked out, Mewtwo teleported them into the medical chamber of the island complex, his heart sinking with dread and fear as he lay her down on the sanitized mat in the heart of the room. Shouting for AI, his voice wavered as he asked if she had managed to form an antidote to the toxin in the arachnoids, desperately hoping that his creation had a ready-made cure which he could give to his stricken companion. Yet the computer program had nothing of the sort; she had not even fully analyzed the chemical makeup of the compound itself to derive what might combat it. With his thoughts tumbling, he darted to the medical cabinet, taking from its depths a bottle of the mineral spring's water, and returned to Kamaria, undoing the cap and tipping a generous amount into her mouth. After a fit of sputtering and coughing, she gulped the water down, and seemed to relax…but then her quivering began again, as if she had been exposed to an arctic wind while soaking wet. He had half known that would be the case; although the healing fluid had many restorative properties, boosting the immune system, the cells' capabilities to regenerate, as well as the drinker's energy levels, it was doubtful that it could combat man-made venom – especially if that venom had been modified to bear more potency than that found in a viper's fangs. At best the miraculous waters would hinder the toxin's assault, but it could not halt its progress in her veins completely….

"AI," he called, "is this compound still strong enough to kill her?"

"I do not know, onii-san. I had no way to test the poison's potency without injecting it into another living being; hence, I cannot know how it will affect her or the child."

His growing frustration was almost enough to make him thrash the nearest wall with his telekinesis. Instead, his tail lashed into and knocked over the stone chair behind him, bruising the limb in the process. After a sharp curse, he growled out, "So we have no antidote to battle the poison itself, we do not know what this substance will do to either of them, and as such, we will be unable to treat the hurts it causes. So what can we do? I cannot stand by idly as they suffer from this assault!"

"Perhaps we need to go to the source, Mewtwo - the poison was developed somewhere by someone, and it is highly improbable there would be no remedy for it, considering the risk of accident exposure."

"And where and to whom do you suggest I go?" he snapped. "Giovanni no longer remembers-"

A soft moan interrupted his inquiry, and he turned to Kamaria as she began to regain consciousness. Having heard the last parts of the argument before she had managed to lift her heavy eyelids, her gaze rose to Mewtwo, and with dulled eyes, she whispered, "…Ali…."

At first Mewtwo believed she was hallucinating, and so murmured, "No, Kamaria, I am not-"

Her head flopped to the side as she attempted to shake her head, and then found she couldn't complete the motion. "No…Ali, he…he was involved in all of the projects concerning me. If anyone should know how to help us, and would be willing to do so, it's him."

Resolved to waste no more time with useless debate, the older clone merely asked, "Where is he?"

His ailing companion grimaced as a fresh assault of painful spasms struck her, and as she squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, she answered, "Cinnabar…he has a lab there funded by Giovanni."

With her designer as the only shred of hope he possessed, Mewtwo grasped Kamaria's paw briefly, firmly, offering her what comfort he could before he released her and stood. She would remain here where no outside force could threaten her, for none could reach the island without alerting and triggering AI's defensive protocols – and his brainchild would not allow any but Mewtwo near the younger clone while she was so fragile. Lifting his muzzle and preparing himself for teleportation, he ordered, "Watch over her, AI, and help her in any way you can while I am gone. I will return as soon as I possess what is necessary to cure her and the little one."

AI would have done so anyhow, and after she had confirmed such, Mewtwo gazed down at his companion and, just as the blinding glare of teleportation began to suffuse him, whispered, "Remain among the living, Kamaria…if not for your child, then stay alive for my sake."

White light encompassed him, burst…and he was gone.

…Evening fell over the isle of the southeastern sea, seemingly hushing not only the tropical birds but also the volcano at the heart of the island. Aromas of sea-salt, brine, and sun-baked fish filled Mewtwo's nostrils as he inhaled his first breath of Cinnabar, and as he recklessly flew into town in a streak of azure light, he mused that it was not unlike the scent of the island of his birth, which, geographically, was only a few dozen miles north of here. However, that place and the laboratory it had housed were far in the past, while now, in the present, two new facilities rested in the northeastern sector of the island. Of the pair, the one farthest inland was devoted to the reanimation of fossils, while the other, its purpose ambiguous, crouched on the shore, having supposedly been shut down for nearly a year. Assuming that the one he searched for was the latter, he floated up to the windows of the uppermost floor, from which light flickered through lowered blinds, and sent a burst of telekinesis to shatter the glass from one of the window's frames. Levitating inside, he stepped past computer modules which hummed and whirled as they input information, and his eyes flicked over the piles of paperwork cluttering the abandoned desks. Above him the ceiling lights were switched off, and in the corners of the room the leaves of potted plants were ruffled from the breeze emitted from the vents and the AC units. While the building still, in fact, seemed to be functional, no one appeared to be within the structure at the moment. Beyond the running machines, the place seemed to have been vacated for days, possibly even weeks or months if the dates on the files around him were any indication. Continuing on, he passed sections of offices and cubicles, all cleared of personal items, save some textbooks here and there, any of which could have been owned by the company running the facility, and thus left behind when the place had closed down.

Yet he had seen lights on, confirming that while the building had closed, someone had chosen to remain here, presumably to continue analyzing the data the experiments within this place had wrought. However, whoever it was did not seem to want to be disturbed: iron gates locked away the passages to the alighted rooms, and as he approached them, he reached out with his telekinesis and tore them down. The metal screeched as it was twisted and flung aside, no doubt alerting the individual who had barricaded him-or-herself within the facility's depths…but as Mewtwo waited a minute or so, the continued quiet reassured him that the authorities had not been summoned. No sirens wailed outside, no heavy footsteps pounded his way - the disturbance, as he had half suspected, would not be investigated. After all, what had happened here was surely illicit, and bringing the enforcers of the law into this facility would have only been done as a last resort. Yet no matter…from ahead of him was a glow, and stepping forward he saw that the door to one of the employee lounges was ajar. Shuffling came from inside…a shadow passed beneath the door…a teakettle screeched! Dashing forward, Mewtwo flung the barrier open and leapt, grasping the room's sole occupant and lifting him into the air by his shirt collar. Wearing the white robes of one who practiced medicine, the human was a dark-skinned man, likely of northern Africa, his face and hands wrinkled, his hair graying, his chocolate eyes guarded behind bifocal glasses.

Fangs bared and glinting, Mewtwo gave the man a fierce glare which would usually render most grown adults into mere frightened, whimpering schoolchildren. "Are you Ali Kummad?" the clone snarled.

Although his feet dangled a good foot from the ground, the man seemed remarkably unaffected by the situation, and merely said, "I am. Is there any way I could be of service to you, dear boy?"

Ignoring the slight towards his maturity level, Mewtwo growled, "Yes. You can provide me with the remedy to save a mutual female acquaintance of ours."

Kummad blinked at him. "Kamaria, I trust - I thought she might be why you came here. Well, if you would be so kind as to set me down, then we may further discuss this matter."

With some confusion and definite reluctance, the feline lowered the older male to the floor, and watched as the geneticist strode over to the stove, carefully lifted the lid of the kettle, stirred into its waters some tea leaves, and after a few moments, poured himself a cup of the hot beverage. Glancing at Mewtwo with rather calm, even benevolent eyes, he asked, "Would you like some? I assure you, it's quite good."

Mewtwo's eyes narrowed and flashed with anger, and glowering at Kummad, he snarled, "I do not have time to have a drink with you! I need the antidote for the arachnoid toxin, and swiftly at that!"

Turning fully to the clone, the man took a sip of the steaming concoction and asked, "I assume you're referring to one of Giovanni's little pests. Just how long ago did it infect her, and for how long was the toxin stored before it was injected? It weakens considerably as it approaches its expiration date."

"She was infected less than an hour ago, and the toxin had been decaying for roughly nine months," the other male replied, glad that the conversation was at last heading in the proper direction.

Yet Kummad disappointed him with his next words. "Then we still have a couple of hours before we need to begin worrying. So please, take a seat, Mewtwo."

Frustration and vexation made the younger male bristle, the hackles of his neck rising, and he appeared as if he wanted nothing more than to howl at the elderly man…but Kummad held up a sun-speckled, walnut-hued hand and said, "I was not asking. Either you take a seat and speak civilly with me, or I will ignore you to the best of my ability. Although I care for Kamaria very much, I will not tolerate impoliteness and malice in my company, and if you chose to continue to make me endure such, I will not make your mission here any easier. Furthermore, if you attempt to force from me the information you seek, I will merely struggle and waste far more of your time than what would have been expended if you'd simply behaved! Humor me, however, and this conversation will pass by much more quickly, ensuring that you may return to Kamaria in little more than an hour. It's your choice, Mewtwo."

Pride compelled the clone not to obey the man like a pet; however, he was not unreasonable. "I will stand, human…but I will listen if you make this fast."

With a nod, Kummad settled for that compromise. "That will be acceptable."

And so long minutes passed in which the human drank his ocha and Mewtwo stood tensely before him, his tail lashing in the air as evidence of his agitation. Precious moments were being lost, and the one who held such esteem in Kamaria's mind merely sat in his chair, allowing her to suffer while he delighted in the light flavor of hot tea. In that time, Mewtwo's thoughts were flooded with imagined scenes in which he assaulted and interrogated the other male, prying into the entity's wizened brain to discover what he required to aid his companion. However, the clone kept himself firmly restrained, having been successfully baited with the geneticist's promise that his obedience was key to accessing the answers he sought. Eventually, the old man seemed to realize that he was stretching the younger creature's patience to its limit, and so broke the silence. "What is Kamaria's current condition?"

Mewtwo, able to recall his last memory of his companion vividly, said, "She possessed tremors, slid in and out of consciousness every few minutes, had acute muscle pain and fatigue, felt chilled to the touch-"

Realizing his error, Kummad interrupted. "I apologize, I must not have worded my question correctly. I meant to ask how she was before the infection, as I am well aware of how that particular toxin affects the body."

Where was he going with this…? "Do you want a description of her physical health, or of her mental state?" he asked, his tone somewhat sour.

"Both, if you would be so kind," the man replied, watching with interest as the clone appeared to blanch, and then struggle to formulate his answers.

After a couple moments of contemplation, Mewtwo said, "Kamaria's mind is sound, bearing ample quantities of intelligence, curiosity, willpower, a compulsion for independence, and warmth in character when she so chooses to express it. Additionally, these positive qualities are balanced by her unwavering convictions and her swift temper. She is a creature of fire, Kummad...but surely you already know this?" When the older male did not answer, the clone continued on, "As for the physical and psychical aspects of her being, she possesses acute control and grace over them, and before her infection experienced no difficulties with either of them. Beyond that…."

"…Go on," the human prompted, like a priest reassuring children that he would not condemn them after their secret was disclosed.

"She is pregnant." The short statement was answer enough.

"And is this a negative thing in your opinion?" the geneticist inquired, honestly curious at the creature's blunt response. "While I am certain the condition makes Kamaria uncomfortable, and in turn makes her difficult for you to be around at times, I would have thought the notion of new life would prove astounding to one such as yourself. Despite the aches and pains that accompanies the process, it always inspires awe in me."

"Do not misinterpret my tone, Kummad. While Kamaria at times grows irritable from her discomfort, she does not often allow herself to dwell on the cons of her condition, at least not in my presence. True, I cannot know how she responds to it otherwise, but typically her hope overshadows the more unsavory aspects of her pregnancy. No, I am merely stating a simple fact, one which took time for me to acclimate myself towards. To me, her condition is ambivalent, for while the notion of having a child makes her happy, for me it proves something of a…complication."

Whether he comprehended the nature of the "complication" or not, Kummad nonetheless nodded and said, "I see. But you still admire and care for her, don't you, despite the creature stirring in her womb? Even though that creature could belong to…say…someone as heinous as Giovanni?"

The clone's eyes hardened and grew distant…lengthy seconds passed, and then he murmured, "…A child, regardless of its genetic heritage, should not be judged by the acts of its parents. Similarly, I will not judge Kamaria or her child for the crimes the potential father has committed. I care for them both…or, at very least, for the mother-to-be who I have befriended."

The man seemed pleased with the answer, and perhaps even amused. "Quite sensible of you, Mewtwo…but I have another question. Did I succeed in what Giovanni's wished? Is Kamaria as desirable to you as she was intended to be?"

The clone's gaze refocused and his pupils narrowed into slits from his sudden fury. "The matter you speak of so lightly is an abominable one. To prescribe me with the purpose of shedding blood was to be expected of my kind, but to create a being whose sole reason for living would be to pleasure another…? That is a far more despicable fate, Kummad, and even though she does prove alluring to me, I find I cannot tolerate the notion of what she was meant to become."

Chocolate eyes regarded him with a mixture of sorrow and weariness. "I agree that what was intended for her was immoral…but Kamaria was essentially the property of Giovanni, made with his money and registered as his servant, and as such, he felt he could do with her whatever he wished without consequence. I daresay he learned otherwise if the incident last year was any indication, but I have to ask: did he ultimately win as far as she was concerned? Has she submitted to you?"

In a low, slow voice which Mewtwo hoped would properly convey his honesty, he murmured, "No, she has not…and I have no issues with her decision."

Kummad raised a dark eyebrow in some surprise. "Is that so? You have been tempted by her, but have never attempted to seduce her…?"

If the clone overlooked the incident after he had given Kamaria her bracelet, her creator's conclusion was entirely valid. Flexing his paws into fists from agitation, Mewtwo growled, "I am not like Giovanni, who would take a female he desired with or without her consent. Kamaria's body is her gift to give to whomever she desires, and I would not deprive her of that right for a few moments of carnal pleasure. I am not that kind of monster."

Now the old African was smiling widely in an open show of his approval. "It gladdens me that you treat her with such respect rather than abuse – it makes you far more of a man than the individual who gave you your human characteristics! Giovanni would be so disappointed, I'm sure, but it is always nice when the proverbial apple falls far from the tree which formed it."

It took a moment for the meaning of those words to penetrate Mewtwo's brain…and when they did, his brow furrowed in bewilderment and his muscles began to coil. Shivering as an unpleasant suspicion began to stir in his thoughts, like a newborn viper in its nest, he hissed, "What are you meaning to imply, Kummad? If you are fond of your limbs, answer me swiftly!"

Ali Kummad sighed - so they were back to threats, were they? He supposed that could not be helped, and so, folding his hands before him, he considered how to best approach a topic which would not please the temperamental clone in the slightest….

…Hundreds of miles to the west, Kamaria was aware of herself and her surroundings, which was a significant improvement over the blackouts she had suffered through twenty minutes previously. While she was now able to comprehend the passage of time and her deterioration, she was for all intensive purposes a mere a kernel of consciousness trapped within a malfunctioning husk of living meat. Convulsions seized her at intervals, and her attempts to will control into her sore, icy muscles were met with failure. Vaguely, the chill of her flesh made her wonder if decreased blood-flow was the culprit behind her helplessness. How many times had she woken in the morning and nearly tumbled to the ground when she put pressure on her paws and legs, which had fallen numb in the night…? Too many times, she remembered, and as her fear and frustration mounted when she continued to try to still her frame without success, she took some small comfort in the fact that while her breathing and heartbeat had quickened, they both still functioned steadily. At the same time, a pain like dulled blades speared her internal organs, making her ache to expel the matter within her stomach and bowels, as if this would help her find relief from the sickness. Although she attempted to fight both, the revolting acts soon became involuntary, and gagging she attempted once again to move, if only to escape the unsanitary mess…and to her surprise, she managed to roll from the soiled mat, and crawled a few feet from it before her limbs once again gave out. Darkness clouded her vision, threatening to break her consciousness now that she'd drained what little strength she had managed to gain, but she resisted as best as she could manage, silently terrified at the notion of slipping under and never surfacing again. Goosebumps prickled beneath her fur, which was sullied with cold sweat and grime, and fatigue taunted her…but somehow she managed to cling to awareness. Perhaps AI's voice, which continuously filtered into her hearing as the ringing quieted, helped in that respect. Still, she longed for Mewtwo to reenter the cavern, for his warm, comforting presence and for the fulfillment of his promise of relief upon his return. He had sworn he would find a way to help her and the baby, to banish the ice from their shared veins…but could she continue to hold out until he came back with a cure…?

As more minutes passed she began to grow numb. In a way, this was a welcome change, but it also made her fear spike - after all, when people began to die, truly die, didn't the pain fade along with their lives? Her hope began to falter and panic take root…but as if to reassure her that this nightmare would not end quite yet, a fresh, new hurt plowed through her center, causing a sharp shriek to force its way out of her tight throat. As the anguish continued in waves, she felt a warm liquid seep from her…but it did not smell of urine. After a moment of shock, she realized what was happening: her body was seeking to expel anything and everything it could in a futile attempt to purge her system of the poison which ailed it - including her child. Perhaps she should have anticipated that; an infant, after all, is essentially an overgrown parasite until it is born, causing its host to endure bouts of nausea, hormonal imbalances, pressure on the bladder and restriction of blood flow as it grows, to name a few of the unpleasant symptoms included during its occupation of the mother's body. Kamaria, having been designed with this specific purpose in mind, had endured adjustments in her anatomy so she might successfully breed and complete multiple terms with the minimal amount of risk. Yet even she was not immune to all of the discomforts of pregnancy, and certainty would not find childbirth a pleasant ordeal. She took some small amount of solace in the fact that a premature birth would not endanger the infant now: it had already developed enough to survive outside of the womb.

However, her panic returned as she remembered that no one else was physically there to help her through this final trial; she would have only her instincts to guide her through this. Yet she felt so weak, too weak…if the poison did not kill her, surely this succeed in sending her into oblivion…but she could not halt the contractions, dared not now that her water had broken. Damning her luck – for when did the caul ever break without doctor intervention? - she asked AI if she had any information which could help her, and if so, if she would stay nearby and coach her through the birth.

There was nothing more the artificial intelligence could do….

…During this time, Kamaria's maker managed to find a suitable introduction to the subject Mewtwo was inquiring about. "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but you're aware that to properly stabilize your genome, human genes were incorporated into the Mew DNA used to create you."

His fangs still bared, the clone nodded. "Yes, I am aware of that. However, I was told the donor was anonymous, and ultimately, inconsequential."

Kummad shook his head, and his lips twitched as if he were suppressing a grin. "Anonymous, perhaps…but 'inconsequential'? Mewtwo, your human heritage could not have mattered more! Do you truly believe that Giovanni would have left that donation up to chance? You were intended to be the strongest fighter the arena has ever known, and what would go into you was discussed almost passionately! Yet Giovanni could not have widespread testing amongst his ranks to find the candidates – not only would that have taken too long, but the project that created you was deemed strictly confidential, and involving the whole of his organization would have been the equivalent to asking for the secret to be leaked. Hence, as Giovanni always had a staggeringly high opinion of himself, he provided my colleagues with samples of his own DNA to fill the gaps in your genetic coding."

Beneath his ashen fur, Mewtwo paled, and then blanched as if his mouth had been sprayed with lemon extract. Chagrin and horror suffused him, arousing the nearly unquenchable urge to lash out at something, perhaps even the herald of this unwelcome truth…instead, he held his paws out before him, gazing upon them with the same anger and confusion as he had on the morning of his "birth." This new knowledge, like that which had assaulted him on his awakening day - that his creation marked the usurpation of God by his willful children, that his existence would be one of experimentation and decay if he remained in his makers' hands - tore his innards apart and left him to cauterize the shreds back together with the heat of his growing fury. Yet he knew if he were to demolish anything to sooth his dismay, he would tear apart his own body rather than this facility, for every cell he possessed was tainted by that man. He could never escape Giovanni now, and with bitter humor, he realized that from a hereditary standpoint, this essentially meant that he did have parents of a sort; after all, only through the genetic heritage of a Mew "mother" and the donations for a crime lord "father" had Dr. Fuji and his assistants succeeded in developing him.

Yet should he truly be so surprised…? Now that he analyzed the matter, he could easily find similarities between that monster and him. Both of them had harbored the fierce ambitions to gain power and ruthlessly dominate the world, and both of them possessed heightened levels of intellectualism and creativity. Both of them had experienced clouded judgment from their arrogance and pride, and both of them shared physical features: the hawk-like eyes, the heavy brows, the harsh angles of the face. And yet…as he watched the moon float up from the eastern horizon, he remembered what Kummad had said: despite the likenesses, they were not nearly the same, for the clone had something which Giovanni could only envy – he had a heart, and a good heart at that….

As his anger evaporated and he regained a sense of calm, acceptance being reached, he asked the geneticist, "And what of Kamaria? Whose genes did you use to stabilize her genome?"

After a moment of hesitance, Kummad replied, "We used biopsies from a child who aspired to be an ice skater before she died. Her name was Ai Fuji."

Ai…? He might have guessed as much. "Did you have a reason for disturbing the dead, or was this another of Giovanni's whims?"

Kamaria's creator sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am certain you can understand why she proved the ideal candidate. Primarily, you befriended the girl's clone and mourned her death when her body degenerated. Even during the year when you associated yourself with the human women of Team Rocket, no female interested you as she had…and Ai's own inherit traits merely finalized our decision. Before her untimely death she was in perfect health, showed hints of natural telepathic abilities, and displayed a charming blend of innocence, wisdom, and charisma in personality. What more could we desire in a donor? After she was chosen, we received permission from her mother to seize any of her preserved biological samples and exhume her grave. By that point, the woman was more than a little weary of Team Rocket interfering with her daughter's death, and so agreed to provide us what we needed - but only if we covered the reburial expenses and never approached her or her late child again. Ai, as a result, will finally be left in peace."

And in addition to peace, Mewtwo mused, Ai would gain a legacy in Kamaria, who would be the closest the girl would ever have to a descendant. Personally, he did not think the child would have been displeased, regardless of the methods leading to the hybrid's birth. After all, hadn't she said something about wishing to act as Mewtwo's mother when he had been a kitten? If so, he could not imagine that her maternal side wouldn't have extended over Kamaria as well if Ai had come to know her; her motherly urges surely would have only heightened at the realization of their shared blood….

Yet then Mewtwo remembered his true purpose here, and cursing himself for being deterred from his goal, he murmured, "Kummad, while all of this is interesting, my concern remains upon the living. As such, now that I have heard you out, may I have the tonic that will save Kamaria and her offspring?"

Weariness weighed heavily upon him from what he had learned, and so he prayed that the geneticist would, at last, cooperate, as the clone had met his demands….

Ali Kummad's response, however, nearly resulted in his death. "I apologize, Mewtwo, but I do not have the tonic in my possession."

The feline's head snapped upwards and his psychical energies flared as his rage and dismay spiked. He only just managed to restrain himself from driving a Shadow Ball into the ribs of the frail man before him, instead hissing, "You mean to say that you have WASTED all of this time distracting me while she suffers alone? I thought you cared for her, Kummad!"

"I do, and I am not saying that I cannot help you, Mewtwo! I am merely informing you that I don't have a remedy here which can cancel out the toxin she was exposed to."

The clone flung up his arms in vexation. "So what use are you? I came here to find a way to help her, and all you have done is-"

Kummad interrupted him in a firm, flat voice, "Why are you so desperate to save her?"

Is inquiry made the pokémon still, and glancing away, he growled, "Why must you even question that? She is my friend, the only other member of my kind – how could I not wish to save her?"

Kamaria's creator did not seem satisfied with this reply, and said in a bland tone, "Is that so…? Well, if that's the case, you can relax: Kamaria will be fine. The poison was created to incapacitate you for a short period of time to enable your capture, not murder you. However, the dosage was intended for grown adults – I can only guess at how an unborn child will react to contact with the substance."

On one hand, relief swept through Mewtwo as he heard that Kamaria would survive the assault of the poison; on the other hand, his panic only rose as he considered what might happen to her baby. Clenching his paws into fists, the younger male asked, "Will it die…? Will her infant die without a tonic?"

"What exactly will happen if I say it won't?" Kummad asked, setting his nearly empty mug on the table.

"…I will return to her side to assist her as she recuperates from the toxin, and then help her deliver the infant when the time arrives. Afterwards, she will leave my home to pursue her own destiny in this world, with her child in her arms."

The other male considered that, and then inquired, "And if my answer is a 'yes'? What will happen then?"

Mewtwo did not want to think about it - the sheer agony of that possibility made his heart ache…. "I do not know what she will do...but she will be heartbroken if the child perishes. She loves it dearly…."

A full minute passed before Ali Kummad responded to that, and when he did, his voice was soft and quiet. "…Mewtwo, tell me this: do you love her?"

The clone stared, his jaw falling slightly ajar in his surprise, for unlike AI, unlike Chi, this man did not tease him or simply suggest that he had feelings for Kamaria; no, he directly asked Mewtwo the extent of his affections for the female, and that was a question he was not prepared to answer….

Exasperation flicked over the geneticist's face. "It's a very simple question, Mewtwo: do you love Kamaria or not?"

"I…."

He had never seriously considered the possibility of loving her before, not in the romantic terms Kummad was implying. Yes, the subject had been brought up more than once in his presence, but he had always set it aside, being far more concerned with never overstepping his bounds with Kamaria, and with never pushing her for physicality or emotional intimacy. However, they had grown quite close over the past handful of months, and earlier this day he had shared a moment with her that, while it had not been fulfilled, could not be construed as a display of platonic affection by any means. Yet while he understood that there might be something more developing between them, he remained uncertain as to the extent of his feelings for her. Was his interest in her still growing, or had he, unbeknownst to him, crossed the line and truly begun to love her…? Was the warmth and yearning he felt for her more than merely what was shared between two opposite-gendered friends, or was it instead the emotion advocated and blessed by the divine…? As he stood before her maker, wordless, a memory from the coldest month floated in his mind's eye: of Kamaria sleeping tranquilly in his arms, ultimately precious to his heart even though she had once threatened to wound it beyond repair. Once her fury at the world had withered away, her company had become something he could not resist; with her time stretched, the atmosphere grew warm and gold, and he felt an emotion which otherwise largely eluded him. For with her, he was happy…and he hoped fiercely, even prayed, that she was happy as well, because even when the prospect of her departure saddened him, he felt contentment at the notion that at least she would be happy - and that, more than his own sorrow, was what truly mattered to him.

As understanding blossomed in his soul, he nodded to himself, realizing his answer…but the man before him needn't know what lay in his heart, for that was Kamaria's concern, not her creator's. "…She means much to me, but my exact feelings for her will be disclosed to her alone, as they concern her and no one else. Besides…she deserves to be the first to know."

Surprise registered on the human's face, before his eyes softened and he nodded. "I understand…and you're right, of course, that is a private matter between you two. I suppose I will have to simply trust that whatever feelings you harbor won't be swayed by distance or the passage of time…at least not initially. Now there is one final matter we must discuss before I send you on your way: would you like to know who the father of her child is?"

"…Does this truly matter? If the child dies due to your hesitance to direct me to a cure, its parentage will be irrelevant."

"Actually, of all the topics we've covered, this is the most important of all," Kummad remarked. "I take it from your response, though, that she hasn't told you herself?"

Mewtwo frowned, and then sighed, pressing his fingertips to his eyelids in exasperation. "No, she has not, and I have not pried. However, if you insist of informing me, do hurry to the point – we have already wasted too much time here."

With a nod, Ali Kummad finished his tea, and grimaced at more than its cool temperature as he contemplated details which conveyed in full the perversion of one crime lord's mind….

…A country away, the curse Giovanni had set upon the clones was being defied. Even as the poison sought to drain all of Kamaria's strength from her, she clung to existence and fought to ensure that life would continue beyond the threat of death. Her body went through the steps to allow for a successful delivery, her cervix shortening and dilating, her uterine muscles contracting, drawing the opening upwards while pushing the unborn into it. The replica tried to remember to breathe, even though she wanted nothing more than to grind her teeth at the discomfort and pain of the process. To distract herself from the growing ache, she focused her mind on the voice of AI, which offered her a steady stream of encouragement. Acclimate to the hurt…it was just another part of her…it would pass soon enough. It was merely a sensation, it could be ignored…. Oh thank god she wasn't human; otherwise she would have to endure countless hours of this…! Amazingly she managed to laugh softly at the whole situation - or perhaps that was hysteria catching hold of her. Then the child's head crowned, and she quieted...a few tears ran down her face, and she grimaced at the potent odors of sweat and blood. As she gasped the name of her absent friend, she mused that this wasn't fair: in a better world, one devoid of Giovanni's sadism, Mewtwo would be here helping her through this. This would have been a time of excitement, a time of joy…and, obviously, still a time of pain as well, but she would have been stronger, strong enough to endure this properly rather than feel that every push subtracted years from her life….

Yet these final pushes would mark the end of this ordeal, and so she used what strength remained in her and pushed. Soon the infant slid free from her, followed swiftly by its placenta, and then, at last, the contractions faded. Lying back, the clone gasped in ragged breaths, but she felt…better. The relief was spawned from more than simply the childbirth being over: her muscles obeyed her now, if weakly, and the chill pervading her had vanished. Being in labor, she realized, must have cloaked the fact that the toxin was ebbing away in her system, its potency lost as her body succeeded in fighting and metabolizing it. And yet, something was still wrong: her pounding heartbeat and slowing breaths were the only sounds in the room. Why…why wasn't the infant mewling…? Although fatigue threatened to overwhelm her, she stirred and sat up, casting her gaze to the bundle of fur she had birthed - it did not move or make a sound. Dread and panic seizing her, she reached for the little one, drawing it into her arms, pressing its chest to her ear, listening for breath, for a simple heartbeat…and found neither.

She could not process or accept it; she had felt her strong, healthy baby kicking within her just this morning, seemingly so impatient to be born! It could not be dead, could not remind dead, and desperately Kamaria went through the steps of resuscitation, weeping and praying for its tiny heart to beat and its lungs to shudder and fill with nourishing air. Even as AI told her to stop, that it was no use, she attempted the impossible, unable to endure the notion of losing the being she loved most in the world, who had been within her as her life had been transformed and enriched in this paradise.

"Please…please, no…," she whispered, "Please come back to me…come back…!"

Her child must live, it must…! For how could she bear to lose it…?

…Unaware of the tragedy unfolding, Kamaria's maker clucked his tongue and asked Mewtwo, "Do you recall when the Team Rocket veterinarians subjected you to a health check?"

Confusion made the clone's brows knit together, but recalling the incident, he nodded. "I do…but how is that relevant to the topic at hand?"

"If memory serves, after the initial physical you were required to forfeit hair, skin, blood, bone, cartilage, and even some organ tissue samples. Given that these biopsies would likely have unnerved you, triggering outbursts of your then untamed psychical powers, they thought it best to keep you sedated."

Remembering the destruction wrought whenever his emotions had overwhelmed him, Mewtwo nodded. "Wise of them – but what are you meaning to suggest?"

"I mean to say that those medics wanted to acquire as many different samples from you as possible, including some that you probably wouldn't have consented to provide while conscious. In particular, they wanted samples rich in genetic material - after all, while they regarded you as formidable, they realized you were not immortal, and so wished to be prepared if they lost you to sickness or in battle," Kummad explained. Then, after a heavy pause, the man continued, "…Now despite that many of them referred to you as an 'it', you are, in fact, a male. Your masculine build, your deep voice, your more aggressive behavior - even without telltale external genitalia, your gender was evident from the beginning. On that note, they wondered whether the cloning process had rendered you sterile, as fertility is typically the first trait lost when genetics are manipulated. In the end, however, they found you were capable of procreation when they managed to acquire your…well, your 'seed,' as we shall put it, as you are beginning to look extremely uncomfortable with the topic at hand."

Mewtwo had, in fact, donned an expression of acute discomfort, but not from having his reproductive abilities discussed in front of him so casually. No, he had understood quite swiftly in Kummad's speech where this was heading, and along with the uncertainty the possibility aroused in him, he was also attempting to cope with potent feelings of outrage and violation. Surely this was a joke…those sick bastards couldn't have…? "If that is true, what methods did they employ to gain-"

The geneticist waved a hand at this inquiry. "Oh, don't worry, Mewtwo, you are still a virgin in all respects. No one manually stimulated you to orgasm - that would have been incredibly inappropriate, and given they were being supervised, not even the most perverse of those medics would have touched you, so you've never been an unwitting participant in any form of sex. However, through hypnosis you underwent something all healthy, adolescent males experience at some point in their lives: an erotic dream. What precisely you imagined, of course, I cannot begin to guess, but you made the donation and then had your dream promptly eaten by one of the veterinarians' Haunters, which erased the experience from your mind. However, I imagine you awoke feeling quite gratified afterwards."

In response to this, Mewtwo, in a rare exhibit of his mortification, flushed heavily. As his face burned, he gritted his teeth, and slowly managed to spit out, "…Say that I believe you concerning this incident. What precisely happened to the 'donation,' as you so put it?"

Kummad blinked at him. "I would think that would be obvious," he remarked, employing a tone one might use when explaining something to a slow child. "The sample was frozen until a later date, and then used to fertilize one of the few egg gametes compatible with it: one of Kamaria's ova. Hence, that would make you, biologically speaking, the father of her child."

Since the geneticist had begun his speech, the suspicion had been stirring in Mewtwo's brain…and now, as it was presented to him as a truth, the replica at last took up the man's offer and sat down in one of the vacant chairs. Pressing his knuckles into his forehead, he hunched over, suddenly feeling winded as he tried to absorb the idea: the child he had felt kicking within Kamaria was his…? The baby Kamaria had been so desperate to shield from him, the little one she so adored, belonged to him as well as her...? As his heart reeled at this knowledge, not knowing whether to soar or plummet, his detached mind mused that it made perfect sense. Of course the child could not have been sired by a random male; it had to be his if Giovanni truly wished to lure him back into servitude, because even if Mewtwo had been heartless enough to ignore the plight of a female of his race, surely he would never be so dishonorable as to abandon his own offspring? No, he would have returned to Giovanni's side willingly, if only to ensure its safety; he could not have turned away from his own flesh and blood….

And in that moment, through his dark comprehension and icy shock, his heart began to warm…for suddenly, no barrier existed between him and the one he cherished. His desire to embrace her and hold her child was justified, and he could even look upon the fact that Kamaria had hidden this from him with benign understanding. After all, she had not known what kind of person he was, and who was to say if he would have allowed her to leave with his son or daughter had he known…? For a handful of glowing, hope-suffused seconds, he felt no hint of anger or dismay…but then his purpose here crashed over him all over again, reminding him that Kamaria's and his child would likely die without a tonic that could counter the poison in its veins. He stood, sealing away his newfound knowledge and emotions for the time being, and focused instead upon what must be done.

"You said that the child's parentage was the final matter we needed to discuss, Kummad," he reminded the man. "So please, tell me now: where can I find the tonic?"

Yet to the clone's horror, Ali Kummad looked upon him with mingled sorrow and pity. "Do you truly not see it…?"

"What-?"

"By the time Giovanni released those machines, he knew you'd defeated him. Hence, he decided not to use them for what they were originally intended for, but as a means to accomplish revenge. Yes, the poison those devices carried would not kill either you or Kamaria, but that was never his goal! Instead, he sought to exploit a simple truth - that there are few better ways to destroy a child's parents than by destroying the child itself."

Mewtwo stared at him, not fully comprehending what he was being told. "What are you saying? Surely he never had the opportunity to destroy the tonic and ensure that-"

With forceful rage alarming from the previously cool, collected man, the geneticist growled, "Giovanni never cared for his inferiors, so what did it matter to him if they were infected? He was certain he would never be the victim of his little monsters, so why spend money developing a substance he would never need for himself? He wanted you to suffer from the poison, so why would he want to make an anti-venom designed to spare you from the effects? Mewtwo, what reason did Giovanni have to create a tonic?"

No…no, he could not be saying that…! "So you are telling me there is no cure? You are telling me that Kamaria and her child have suffered alone all of this time, hoping in vain that I would return with a remedy that will save them? You are telling me that I must go back empty-handed, ultimately failing them when they needed me the most?"

As the replica screamed at him, Kummad regained his calm and said, "Yes, that is precisely what I am telling you…and for that, I am deeply sorry. Yet you will not return with nothing, Mewtwo: you have the truth now, and while it will not save them, it does mean something."

At that, the clone appeared to crumple: his shoulders slackened, his tail fell, and his very frame seemed to sag. Perhaps, in time, the truth would matter…but in that moment, his failure to help his dearest and their child rendered it hollow and insignificant. Minutes passed as despair enshrouded him, and when he lifted his head from under the pall, he murmured, "I must return to them…and to preserve our safety, this place and your memory of us must be eradicated."

The geneticist, saddened at the notion, nonetheless nodded. "I understand - for now it is best that your kind remained concealed."

So as the clone approached him, Ali Kummad closed his eyes in submission, and saw through his eyelids a cool, blue glow before darkness swallowed his mind. Sometime later he awoke in Cinnabar's only hospital, disorientated and unable to remember the most recent decade of his life, which had covered his involvements with his late colleague Dr. Fuji, with Giovanni and Team Rocket, and most importantly of all, with Kamaria and Mewtwo. In the distance, he heard the wailing of sirens, and when he asked the nearby nurse about them, she told him that one of the research laboratories on the island had erupted in flames - fortunately, no one had been trapped inside. Settling back down in the covers of the hospital bed, the researcher within him mused that it was a shame that the efforts of those nameless scientists were now scorching in the blaze…but at least they were alive. He closed his eyes, hoping to resume sleep in the deepening night, and strangely felt a soul-deep, persistent sorrow, as if something more had been lost than simple documents…and one day, weeks later, he would travel through that husk of a facility and puzzle over charred pages that had survived the fire - but from them divined no meaning. He only received hints of an enigmatic creature out there in the world, far beyond the control of mankind…and somehow, that thought banished his lingering sadness, and turning away from the journals, he walked away from the past and never looked back….

Yet in another case, remembering the past was all Ali Kummad's creation could do, for she had accepted reality at last: the poison had spared her life, instead deeming to take that of her unborn child. Weeping and trembling at her loss, she clutched the soft, small bundle against her chest, having wrapped the stillborn infant in a white shroud. Finally, with her head bowed in mourning, Kamaria depleted the last of her strength by standing and teleporting away. She vanished, leaving behind only her blood, her tears, and the inevitable testament of the witness, AI….

And as she disappeared, Mewtwo stood upon a crag of obsidian, watching with dulled eyes as flames consumed the building which had failed to grant him their salvation. Ruthlessly, mockingly, the wind lashed against him with the smoke that smothered the moon, their oily tendrils sullying his fur and stinging in his eyes and nostrils. As the roof of the facility caved in, some part of him regarded it as a signal to depart…yet for a few moments more, he continued to gaze downwards. In his mind, beneath layers of black crystal, clarity shimmered…but while it was a gift, it could not make a triumph of his defeat. He closed his prickling eyes, and then he too vanished into the gloom….

…When he arrived in the place called home, he found it empty.

Somehow, he had known it would be.