THE PYRRHIC HEARTS

After Giovanni violently takes over Kanto, Mewtwo sides with Ash and his allies to fight the new regime. Ash knows that the biggest threat to their side is Sabrina, Giovanni's second-in-command. When he asks Mewtwo to eliminate her, Mewtwo agrees...but can he kill the woman who once meant so much to him? A war fic.

EXCERPTS FROM PART 2: LOVE

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness."

- Neil Richard Gaiman (1960-Present), an English author.

One of Mewtwo's first memories was walking along a shoreline, his paws sinking into the wet, red sand and leaving a trail of paw-prints behind him. The waves from the ocean, tinted green and warmed by the sun, had washed the prints away and wetted him up to his ankles, depositing sea-salt and algae into his fur. He hadn't minded, already dirtied with sand as he was. During those ventures, he'd often prowled through the beachgrass, looking for the nests of sandpipers and snipes. Sometimes he'd eaten their eggs, and sometimes he'd just crouched quietly and watched the chicks – it had depended on his mood and the state of his stomach. Sometimes he'd gone down on all fours on the shore, leaning forward to inspect a shell or flailing creature the tide had left behind. Sometimes he'd explored the nearby caves and tide pools, peering at the starfish, mussels, and clams, taking care not to cut himself on the rocks. Sometimes he'd swum in the shallows, swiping fish from the water and eating them raw, the white flesh sweet and juicy upon his tongue. And sometimes he'd merely curled up beneath the palm trees, breathing in the scents of brine and rotting fish, watching crabs scuttle across the sand, listening to the soothing sound of the seagulls and the surf.

Mewtwo had been born on Cinnabar Island. The cove he'd played in as a child, cut off from the rest of the island by rocky shoals and jutting peaks – too treacherous for trespassers to travail over – had belonged to Blaine von Brandt, the Cinnabar Gym Leader and director of the island's genetic research facilities. For decades, Blaine had worked with Daichi Fuji, the nation's leading expert in the field of cloning, to resurrect extinct pokémon species - including kabuto, omanyte, and aerodactyl specimens - from their fossilized remains. They had even, as a "fun little side-project" with their interns, recreated a strain of lily that had once grown wild on the island, but had been wiped out by the last volcanic eruption. Known as the Cinnabar lily, the flower was a distant cousin of the tiger lily, the edges of the curling petals a deep, burnt orange, which deepen to maroon at the center. The filaments were veins of red, the stamen blackened as if with soot, which the petals were similarly speckled with. By the time Mewtwo was created, they had spread like fire over the island, and were nearly as popular an export as the glassworks. They would be one of the first scents that Mewtwo would smell in the labs, fresh and faintly sweet, when he'd emerged – wet and wailing – from the womb of the persian that had carried him. He'd had other siblings, of a sort, among the meowth kittens that had nursed alongside him. He'd had other siblings that were clones, including a pikachu, charmander, squirtle, bulbasaur, and even an infant girl. Yet the meowth kittens had been given to the geneticists' children, and the clones had died one by one, leaving him all alone.

Supposedly, he'd played with them all and grieved when they were gone. He'd cried so much as the girl's death they'd had to sedate him, lest he destroy the laboratory and kill them all. His budding psychic powers - a gift from his mew donor, which, like his body, had been refined and amplified by genetic manipulation – had already been capable of that much. Now he remembered very little of those siblings, instead having memories of the waves in the recesses of his mind. His early years were spent on that beach or in the labs, and in the latter he'd endured all manner of tests and treatments. The feel of gloved hands and the stings of syringes had become commonplace, and beneath the translucent fur of his left forearm, he'd had a serial number tattooed in black ink: FPM2-0206-1996. It was his identification code: Functional Prototype Mewtwo, born February 6th, 1996. Presumably if other clones of mew were created, they would bear a similar mark. Though that, as it would later turn out, would be impossible: the research and leftover genetic materials had eventually been destroyed. Yet that happened years later, and as far as Blaine and Daichi had been concerned, they'd first wanted to know how he would turn out before making more of his kind. It had been a wise move on their part, and Mewtwo saw no reason to resent them for it. He'd been fine on his own, and had trusted his Uncle Blaine and Papa Daichi. They had not been like some of the other researchers, who'd put him in a cage and fed him nasty mush, or made him fight monsters, or ran awful, painful tests when Blaine and Daichi were away.

Then they'd come back early from the mainland, just in time to watch him crawl the eyes out of an arcanine. And the next day those researchers were gone, he'd been put back in his pen, and he'd only had to play-fight and go through the normal tests. As the years had passed, those tests had intensified to training, and when he wasn't fighting against the fires of Blaine's team, he studied with Papa Daichi. He came to spend his days in his father's library or in the arena, and found he had a taste for books and battle. And during the rare moments when all was quiet, when the men who'd raised him exchanged riddles and drank sake on the porch, he'd wander across the beach at twilight, noting how little the scene had changed. Though he was taller and stronger now, and moved with a grace his childhood self had lacked, everything else was the same: the sand, the waves, the breeze off the sea, and the creatures that flourished in the brine.

Not long afterwards, Daichi Fuji had suffered a stroke and been paralyzed on his left side. He'd been bedridden during the months that had followed, and knowing that smaller, yet fatal strokes might be imminent, he'd drawn up his will and made his peace with the world. Mewtwo never learned all of the details of that process, but knew some of the basics. Daichi Fuji had portioned his money out to those he thought in need, setting up a scholarship fund for needy interns, and setting aside funds for Mewtwo ("You'll find something you want for yourself, my boy. Use it then.") and for Makato, the woman who'd been his wife. After the death of their only child, Ai - who'd they'd had in their old age, and who'd tragically died in a car accident – they'd quarreled and eventually divorced. In truth, Daichi would confess it had been his fault: in his grief, he'd developed an obsession with resurrecting Ai, and that had been too much for Makoto to bear. Her faith wouldn't allow her to see his attempts as anything but an aberration – which they were, for the child wouldn't have been their Ai, but a doppelganger of her. Even so, thirty years of marriage would not be erased so easily, and even after she'd left him, Daichi hadn't stopped loving her…nor had she him. She'd admitted that much when she'd visited him, and Mewtwo, uncertain and somber, had looked on from the shadows, wondering at the thing called romantic love.

Blaine had led him away then, murmuring that the couple should have their privacy. Mewtwo had not understood, not then, but had obeyed his uncle nonetheless.

A few days later, Daichi passed away in his sleep. Blaine and Makoto had grieved together, reminiscing and drinking until they were both ruddy faced, while Mewtwo had wandered through the halls, dodging anyone he saw. He did not cry – it was not his nature to cry, not after what the abusive researchers had done to him – but he was inconsolable in his own way. He did not speak, merely strode forward, jaw clenched and eyes aglow with barely repressed psychic energies. When he battled, he battled with a ferociousness that bespoke of his grief, and he only barely managed to keep from tearing the walls down around them. By the time the funeral arrangements were made, however, he'd settled into a state of tranquil fury – a necessity, given what would come next.

Since Daichi Fuji was considered a treasure of Kanto, his funeral had been lavish, with a multitude of colleagues, former students, and friends coming to the island to pay their respects. The casket, clothed in black velvet with the silver cloth stitched on (for he'd been a Christian, like his wife), had been moved to the auditorium of the main research facility on Cinnabar. There the mourners had gathered, and there they'd bowed and given condolence money to Blaine and Makoto, the donations in envelopes of dark-colored silk. They'd made the traditional incense offerings, the sweet smoke filling the air with wisps of blue, and had had sat quietly as Blaine and Makoto made their speeches. The priest then entered and drank the offered tea, and said prayers over the body, including some which Makoto had requested. Afterwards, many of the visitors had stayed to talk and dine, with a few joining Blaine and Makoto for the overnight vigil. While some had slept, Mewtwo had stepped into the room, and had looked down through the viewing pane at his father. For the first time that he could remember, he was disturbed by death, and thought that he never wished to see it again. Yet death was natural, he knew, and Daichi had met it bravely at the end of a full life. If others had the chance to do the same, then perhaps he could make his peace with the thing called death.

In the morning, those that remained placed flowers into Daichi's casket, surrounding him with the Cinnabar lilies he'd helped create and so loved in life. Then he had been taken to the crematorium and burnt down to ash and bits of bones. As each of the remains were separated and placed into their own urns, Makoto had murmured she'd have the bones buried in their family plot in Viridian; the ashes Blaine could keep or scatter if he wished. Mewtwo, learning this later, had asked if he could scatter the ashes, to which Blaine had merely nodded. The clone of mew had then taken the ashes and spread them around the private cove, scattering most into the clusters of lilies and the beachgrass, and some into the sea. The urn was placed on their mantle, and for many long weeks, the mansion had been quiet. Life went on as it had before, but there was something listless to their days, and Daichi's absence could be felt as easily as the sun on their backs. Mewtwo, for his part, felt lost, though he didn't voice this anxiety to his remaining guardian. Yet Blaine, as he emerged from his grief, had noticed – he'd raised the clone just as much as Daichi had, after all - and had made steps to remedy it.

At some point, Blaine had begun making calls to the mainland, and one evening he had called Mewtwo to sit with him on the porch. The man mixed himself a drink of crème and vodka and Kahlúa – a sweet, smooth drink he called a White Russian, which he gave Mewtwo a sip of ("Doubt your stomach will like it overly much, so just a taste."), before handing him the bottle of crème. Mewtwo was, fortunately, not lactose intolerant, and could stomach dairy in a way he couldn't take alcohol. As they drank their cool drinks, the smoke from the oil lamps keeping the bugs away (and proving very, very pleasant to Mewtwo, since it was derived from catnip), Blaine had turned to him and said, "A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend. A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living. Found on the rich, poor, short and tall, but shared among children most of all. What is it, Mewtwo?"

Mewtwo had listened to Blaine and Daichi riddle each other in the past, and had, upon occasion, guessed at the answers. Sometimes he'd been wrong, but as his mind and cunning had grown, he'd guessed the correct answer more and more often, and had delighted in their satisfaction. As he considered Blaine's words, he deciphered what they meant soon enough, and frowned before saying, "A smile."

"Correct, my boy." He'd raised his glass to Mewtwo then, and took a deep draught, his shades glinting in the amber light of the sunset. Around the porch, the Cinnabar lilies bobbed in the breeze, and small yellow butterflies fluttered over the dark petals.

Watching them, Mewtwo asked, "And how might a smile be relevant, Blaine?"

"I thought you might say that." And setting his drink aside, the Gym Leader said, "It's relevant because it's absent, Mewtwo. You haven't smiled since before Daichi passed away, and I'm worried about you. So, if you'd like, I'd like to extend an offer to you."

Mewtwo's eyes fixated on the man, and seeing he had the clone's full attention, Blaine continued, "There is a man on the mainland – an old friend of mine and Daichi's, you understand, who helped fund some of our research - who very much wants you to join his employ. He's a Gym Leader, like me, and one of the top Pokémon Masters of the Kanto League: his rank is below only that of the Elite Four, which makes him a very formidable force. While he specializes in Ground-type pokémon, he's also open to other types, and I think you'd benefit from joining his team. He has plenty of resources at his disposal, and connections where those fail."

And he must have seen something in Mewtwo's expression then, because he quickly went on, "You're welcome to stay here, of course, as long as you wish! It's just…I've taught you all I can hope to teach you, Mewtwo. He could do far more for you than I, and besides…you should have the chance to see more than this island. You were made for great things – not to stagnant here – and he would help you reach your goals, whatever those might be. At the very least, you'd be able to battle and grow stronger, and I know that would appeal to you."

It was a tempting offer, and indeed, preferable to staying here and staying aimless. Yet he felt a trace of anxiety creeping into him, for he'd never left the island before (he'd barely left the cove!), and didn't know if he could leave everything he'd ever known to join some stranger's team. Besides, there was Blaine to consider – where would this leave him? "And you? If I do this, what will you make of yourself in my absence?"

Blaine just grinned at him. "Oh, a great many things. But I'll be going with you at first, and making sure you're all settled in before I come back to my research. What do you think of that, my boy?"

The clone considered it, drank down the rest of his crème, and licked his chops afterwards. "That sounds…agreeable."

"Then I'll call Giovanni to finalize the arrangements. We'll fly out at the end of the week." And getting up, he gave the clone a wicked grin, and quipped, "So you'd best pack your bags and say sweet goodbyes to the mermaids. Wouldn't be nice of you to leave them cold and wanting, would it?"

That was a joke Blaine and Daichi had started making as soon as Mewtwo's voice had deepened, and hearing it, the clone wasn't certain whether to bristle or not. Choosing to forgo any reaction – for that had only egged the men on in the past - Mewtwo got up and stepped into the fields, passing the private research facilities and weaving along the pathway to the shore. There he stood for a long while, watching the waves crash against the shores, watching the gulls whirl and dive above him, watching the moon rise over the eastern crags. He sensed that he was on a precipice, and while the thought of crossing over it was unsettling, he nonetheless thought that Blaine might be right: perhaps this was the best thing for him, leaving his home and heading into the unknown. He couldn't be certain of what awaited him, but he would like to think he was ready for it, whatever it might be….

He'd learn soon enough that he wasn't ready – not nearly. For in some ways, even many ways, it would be far, far worse than anything he'd ever known before.

And in other ways, it would be far, far better than anything he could have dreamed….

Despite Blaine's jest, there was nothing that Mewtwo felt any need to pack. He was not a creature who valued material possessions, and possessed no treasures he couldn't live without. He had been reassured all his needs would be provided for on the mainland, and that was enough to content him. So while Blaine had brought a duffle bag with him into the helicopter, Mewtwo had simply leapt into the passenger hold and had waited patiently for the flight to begin. Soon enough, Blaine had finished speaking with the pilot, had strapped himself and his bag in, and given an exhilarated yell as the helicopter lifted off – not that the clone had been capable of hearing him, since the beat of the whirling blades above them was deafening. Soon the shoreline was a thin red line behind them, and then Cinnabar Island as a whole became little more than a red scab amidst the blue expanse of ocean. In time, that too vanished, and as he looked over the waterways, Mewtwo picked out the tiny islands and sandbars among the waves, and the reefs and lagoons that had formed over the eons. Occasionally he glimpsed trade ships and what he thought might be pods of dolphins, but they passed by too quickly for him to be sure. And soon enough, the shoreline of the mainland – with white sands, which he found rather odd – came into view, followed by green meadows, expanses of deciduous forests, and the foothills of mountains, with at least one village tucked within walking distance of the beach. As they continued north, passing species of birds Mewtwo only recognized from his studies, the air grew dry and cool, and for the first time in the clone's life, he felt himself shivering from the cold. Wearing sandals, shorts, and a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt, Blaine had the same reaction, and with a short curse, called out, "I always forget it's colder up here! This is why I prefer the island! Balmy temperatures and scantily clad women - you can't beat that, my boy!"

Mewtwo had snorted as that and resumed looking out the window. Soon enough the forest and ridges had smoothed, replaced by a patchwork of farmland, which had then turned into the outskirts of another town. This one was larger than the village that had come before it, with a grid-work of paved streets and homes surrounded by pines. People and their pokémon – captured and tamed – walked along the sidewalks and milled about in the parks, some looking up and pointing at the helicopter. Then the outskirts gave was to the downtown area, the buildings taller and clustered together, the crowds and traffic denser, all in all an array of sights and smells and sounds which Mewtwo, unused to the bustle and multitude of stimuli, could barely make sense of. Yet that section faded, to be deciphered another day, and they reached the northern edge of town.

There, on the border of the routes which led to Viridian Forest, was the Gym: a building that seemed to be constructed from pale granite, and paneled with polished sheets of red pine, some of which were finely carved. There were gardens and a line of pine trees surrounding its sides, while at its front were a series of pillars, which bordered the vast walkway to its front doors. There were a twin pair of stairs that descended to street level, and a fountain cradled between, the waters of which bubbled and roiled. The mural above those waters seemed to depict two foes facing off, with a phrase in Latin scrawled above them – he supposed it was one of challenge or of warning. He couldn't be sure until he had a better look at it. In any case, this was the Gym that belonged to Giovanni Maki, the Gatekeeper to the Indigo Plateau and the Master of Ground-Type Pokémon. He, of course, had another title, one which Blaine knew very well…but that would be conveyed to Mewtwo in private, after he and Giovanni had been introduced.

They landed and were led into the Gym, passing through the halls and brought to the elevator, which carried them upstairs to Giovanni's office and conference rooms. In one of those rooms they'd met the Gym Leader, who Blaine greeted with a handshake and a respectful look, before introducing the clone and his new trainer. Mewtwo appraised the man, noting the fine material of his black suit, which was lint-free and carefully pressed, with not a crease or wrinkle in sight. Though his hairline was receding, indicative that he was in his middle years, he showed no signs of weakening with age: his body was sturdy with muscle, his broad shoulders looking capable of heaving boulders; his features were angular and stern, but unblemished by wrinkles or sun spots; and his coal-black eyes gleamed with confidence and cunning, belying a mind that few dared challenge. And in the air around him was an aura of power and authority, which impressed on Mewtwo more than anything that it was better to be the man's ally than his enemy.

Giovanni extended his hand, and the clone peered at it, vaguely noting how thick the knuckles were. He suspected they could break small bones. After a moment, the Gym Leader retracted it, saying, "Ah yes, I'd forgotten. Blaine mentioned you dislike physical contact. My apologies, Mewtwo." And when the clone said nothing, he added, "Your guardian has informed me of your other…needs, shall we say. While they are unusual for a pokémon, I will do my best to address them, as I do with all those in my employ. I hope you find your stay here agreeable."

"As do I."

Giovanni and Blaine exchanged a look, seeming amused at his reticence. "Would you like to be shown around the facility? You will be spending most of your time here, after all."

"I would appreciate that." He felt his tail flick behind him, the way it did when he was facing an opponent he'd never seen before. He wondered if they noticed.

If they did, they didn't comment on it. "Then let's get started," Giovanni said, moving forward in smooth, purposeful strides. "Afterwards, I'll show you to your quarters. Your uncle will be rooming nearby, in case there is something you need to consult him on."

And so Giovanni showed them around the Gym, leading them downstairs to the public level. To the sides of the main entrance hall were a series of smaller rooms: some of these were exercise rooms, some were built to withstand elemental barrages, some had earth-derived obstacle courses, and some were set-up for sparring practice and smaller battles. Many of these rooms were occupied by the trainers Giovanni had hired (and, implicitly, trusted) to weed out the amateurs that mistakenly wandered into his Gym, believing the Earth Badge easy for the taking. All of them wore black uniforms, and many of them saluted at the men as they passed by. Mewtwo, for his part, appreciated the show of deference, since that confirmed his suspicions around the Gym Leader: he was not a man these people dared disrespect or cross. After this, Giovanni led them into a maze of transporting tiles, advising them to follow along straight behind him, lest they spin about for hours without reaching the arena itself. They did as instructed, and ten minutes later, they emerged onto the edge of the arena proper, somewhat disorientated and wobbly.

"It throws them off-balance," Giovanni mentioned, looking at them with some amusement. "I, of course, simply navigate the halls upstairs to reach the balcony."

He gestured to the balcony across the battlefield, which rested some five meters above them. A thick, highly polished rail of pine was built around the rim, with the lower edge bearing a series of friezes. There were richly dyed curtains to either side of the dais, held back by golden-hued ropes, and what Mewtwo could only call a throne sat in the center, as sturdy and finely carved as the frieze. All of this sat atop a projection from the wall, which held a pair of steel doors on ground level, which were bordered by what looked like Carrara marble - a white marble with blue-grey streaks, which would have had to be imported from Italy. Had Mewtwo been the type, he might have arched a brow at that, but the rest of the Gym was just as extravagant. On either side of the dirt-pack floor were rows of stately columns (Corinthian, perhaps, with a space behind for spectators), which rose into Roman-style archways. Above these were additional friezes, while on the walls that surrounded the entire set-up were vast murals, which depicted a long history of pokémon battles. This particular Gym had been around since the League's inception, and as such, was prestigious enough to merit the somewhat pretentious display. And over all of this, providing light for the entire arena was a vast circular skylight, the blue firmament making a pleasant contrast against the red granite of the room. All in all, it was a majestic arena, and, Mewtwo was certain, quite intimidating to any child who managed to find his or her way in here. Yet that was the intention of the display: to continue to unnerve the challengers. If they could not overcome their doubts, then they stood little chance against the Gatekeeper, and none at all against the Elite.

"Impressive, isn't it? Admittedly, it's a tad impractical – if the columns are damaged, the structural integrity might be compromised – but we usually have barriers in place to prevent that. Now if you'd come with me, I have a few other things to show you."

Giovanni led them across the field and to the side of the projection from the wall, were a smaller door was. Stepping through it, they found themselves in another room, with a door on each of its walls. To reach the locker-room and showers of the humans, divided by sex, one would take the door on the left side. For the matching room for pokémon, one would take the door on the right. Instead, the trio stepped through the larger, middle door, and found themselves in another hall, which vaguely reminded Mewtwo of Blaine's ponyta stables. To one side were open stalls of varying sizes, the floors covered in straw and a tangle of ferns, with troughs of water and pokéchow nearby. Lying in these stalls, resting, were a nidoqueen and nidoking – a mated pair, it seemed – and a rhyhorn and rhydon, who were probably related in some other fashion. On the other side were more habitat specific stalls, including a shallow pool of seaweed and corral, where a cloyster dwelled; a hilly set of mounds, littered with tunnels, where he presumed a dugtrio lived; a rugged habitat littered with boulders of varying sized, one of which – a golem, he surmised – rolled over to its feeding trough; a room with pillars of wood, with fresh flowers placed in every nook and cranny, much to the delight of the beedrill there; and a darkened room with horizontal bars atop, where a golbat huddled into its wings and dozed. The end of this hallway had another pair of steel doors, which were slid into place only when the weather was stormy. Otherwise, Giovanni explained, the stable was left open to the outside, with the team free to roam around the grounds and forage – or hunt, in the golbat's case – at their leisure.

Considering the type variance in the team – for Giovanni seemed to favor poison-types as much as ground-types, despite his so-called specialty – this set-up was likely the most practical one, and seemed to satisfy his team members quite well. With a whistle, the Gym Leader called his team to attention, and they gathered before them with a speed that surprised the clone, given they'd all seemed quite asleep moments ago. Giovanni had then introduced them to their new team, explaining that he would be taking part in their training regimes from now on. After they'd given a shared cry of acknowledgement, their master dismissed them, and some had ambled outside, while others had returned to their slumber.

Giovanni then led them back through the rooms and up the staircase to the second floor. Returning to one of the conference rooms, they settled down at the table and poured themselves cups of tea, which were welcome to the islanders. Though the season was late summer, it was still colder here than they were used to. They spoke for a time – well, mostly Giovanni and Blaine spoke, catching up in a way they hadn't been able to at Daichi's funeral – but Mewtwo occasionally joined in, namely when the topic concerned him. He described some of his experiences on the island, focusing mostly on the battles he'd had with Blaine's team. Giovanni thought that was good experience, since fire types were comparatively rare on the mainland, though, naturally, that meant he had a lot of catching up to do with the other types. The clone had somewhat bristled at that, but upon reflection, that was true enough. The only other elemental type he knew how to deal with were water ones – the rest were a blank to him.

The Gatekeeper seemed confident, however, that he would learn quickly enough – especially if he followed the schedule they were outlining for him. Suffice to say in was a few parts study with many parts practice, with the only time for leisure being in the evenings. This was fine with Mewtwo, and he found himself looking forward to the regime: there were opportunities here to learn how best to wield his fangs and claw and wiry muscles, and the option of learning other elemental attacks intrigued him. Blaine mused that he could potentially learn a whole slew of moves from technical machines; mew, it was purported, had been capable of mimicking any move it saw. Though that brought up his natural type: he was a psychic, and those abilities were what most required improvement. Blaine, after all, didn't know how to teach the clone control – it was outside his area of expertise.

It was, incidentally, also outside of Giovanni's. "I would like him to have a foundation in these other areas before we focus on that. When I feel he's ready, I'll see if I can't rope Ms. Kurosawa into teaching him."

"Ah, and how is our dear Esper Lady?" Blaine asked, his shade glinted atop his skull as he reclined in his chair.

Giovanni grimaced. "You know she doesn't like that moniker."

"It's better than that other one the Saffronites have been giving her," Blaine said, grinning slightly. "What was it again? The Witch of the Mists…Marshes…?"

"It depends on who you ask. And last I checked she was playing with dragons."

Blaine's white eyebrows rose. "Lance? But I thought he and Lorelei-"

"Not Lance. His cousin."

Blaine's eyebrows rose higher still, and he got this dazed look in his eyes, before a couple spots of red rose to his cheeks, and he coughed. "Well, that's…unexpected."

"I'm certain that's part of the reason why," Giovanni murmured, a trace of sardonic humor in this tone. He then glanced at his watch and sighed. "In any case, it's about time to close the Gym for the night. Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll have my driver take us to my home. Perhaps we'll even be in time to catch Silver and Domino before they head out to the clubs. I swear, one of these days I'll have to scrape those two out of the gutter, naked with god-knows-what on them…."

The Gatekeeper stepped out and said something to his secretary, who started making some calls. The clone turned to Blaine, curious at the man's last comment. "Who are Silver and Domino?"

Blaine smirked, his eyes shining with amusement. "Silver would be Giovanni's teenage son, who has a talent for getting into trouble. He's…well, a bit of an angry pup, and he isn't the politest of boys, but Giovanni assures me he has potential. Domino, on the other hand, is one of Giovanni's top trainers, who works as his consultant into all things Johtonese. She's also a bit…let's just say 'snarky,' but she also shows potential. Apparently, despite having security tailing them, the two are them have been wreaking havoc together." The thought seemed to cause him great delight. "Ah, to be young and in love and dangerous. I'll bet they're having the time of their lives!"

"And likely stealing a few years of Mr. Maki's life while they are at it."

"Oh, quite true, my boy. Quite true."

They passed the remaining minutes in silence, drinking their tea and letting it warm them. Soon enough Giovanni Maki had returned, and led them downstairs to the back, where a black limousine awaited them. They piled in, and as the men picked up their conversation where they'd left off, Mewtwo stared out the tinted windows, watching the city fade behind a sea of pine trees. He saw the occasional trainer and their pokémon wandering along the Route, and glimpsed wild pokémon wandering through the tall grasses that surrounded the road. Eventually they turned off onto a different road and pulled up in front of a rather stately mansion. As they climbed out of the limo, a persian padded leapt down from the porch and padded up to them, bumping her head into Giovanni's open hand and purring. "Good evening, Arya. You remember Blaine, don't you? The creature next to him will be joining our household, so you may allow him to come and go as he pleases."

The persian stepped over to Mewtwo, sniffing at his paw before turning away, padding back over to the porch to lie on the sun-warmed wood. "Arya was my starter pokémon, and is the guardian of my home while I'm away on business. I would advise against upsetting her, since she has a rather nasty thunder attack."

Mewtwo made a mental note of that, and then followed the men into the house, which was just as impressive as the Gym before it. The entrance hall was vast, with staircases leading into the upper wings, and paintings imported from Hoenn upon the walls. The carpets were dyed a rich red hue, the furniture was made of highly polished pine, and there were artifacts and sculptures on display throughout the adjacent hallways. He showed them the kitchens, which were extensive and well-stocked, and the nearby dining hall, which was large enough to easily fit dozens of guests; indeed, Giovanni usually held celebrations in there. They also passed by a vast living room with a fireplace – "for winter nights" - and an even larger library, which the clone had every intention of spending his evenings in. There were also several bathrooms and closets scattered about, and living quarters set aside for the live-in housekeepers, cooks, and security. The second floors was less versatile, having the living quarters for the Maki family and their guests. Giovanni and his son lived in the west wing, while Blaine and Mewtwo would be free to take whatever rooms they wished in the east wing. There was a locked room, close to a stairwell that led down into the library, which Giovanni had said to leave be: it was reserved for Ms. Kurosawa, during the rare times she chose spend the night. Somewhat disappointed at that, the clone took a nearby bedroom, which was enough for his purposes, with its lush bed and balcony. He could look over the forest from there, and given the sight was a far different from anything he'd seen on Cinnabar, he suspected he'd spend a fair amount of time out there.

Blaine's room was just down the hall, and after locking his room behind him, he went and watched his uncle unpack. At some point, the Master of Fire-Type Pokémon looked up, and asked him, "So, you think you'll be comfortable here?"

There was actually a hint of worry in his voice…and while, indeed, there was a lot to take in - it was all so very different from what he was used to - it seemed pleasant enough. "I daresay I will be."

And Blaine von Brandt had just grinned at him. "You were sold when you saw the library, weren't you?"

"Indeed."

The riddle-master had laughed at that, and the following hours had been filled with fine dining and conversation, which went late into the night. There was an awkward introduction when Silver and Domino had staggered in, muddied with pine needles in their hair. Both of them seemed to have had some scuffles along the Route, though nothing they hadn't been able to handle. They were, at Blaine had warned, a rather feisty pair of teenagers. The boy had long, red hair, Giovanni's dark eyes and strong features, and had a similar fashion sense to his father – but he was undisciplined, and didn't seem at all fond of his father. He did, however, treat the girl at his side with more respect, and show hints of gentlemanly behavior towards her: he opened the door and pulled out a chair for her, before sitting down next to her. Domino didn't seem to mind, though she also didn't look like she needed to be treated like a princess either, given the dirt clinging to her and the snarls in her blond curls. Her violet eyes were cunning where Silver's were flinty, though she was much more inclined to grin than scowl, and seemed to get along with Giovanni far better. They ate a quick meal of rice and fish, sharing a glass of wine, before they'd headed upstairs, presumably to wash up.

Giovanni just stared after them and sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know what I'll do with them."

Blaine just snickered. "Oh, let them have their fun. They have the rest of their lives to get serious and crotchety."

"You may be right." And drinking down the last of his wine, he said, "Now if you'd excuse me, I have to finish some paperwork before turning in. Please make yourselves at home."

Thus passed the clone's first day on the mainland. In the days that followed, he adjusted himself to the schedule Blaine and Giovanni had designed, laboring until his muscles and mind alike ached from their lessons.