Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon.

Author's Note:No real hints at plot secrets this time, but there is some philosophy, a bit of drug withdrawl, and a large dose of violence in this entry. Hope you all like it!

Previously:Mew and a Gardevoir named Lilah arrived at Mewtwo's home, and in an attempt to keep from getting partnered with the adolescent female, Mewtwo went to Cassandra's quarters and had her pretend to be his mate. This led to some very uncomfortable situations, and questions into Mewtwo's own sexual past…and much to her shock, Cassandra learns he isn't a virgin at all. As the night progresses, there are some tantalizing hints of what happened…but nothing concrete was revealed by the secretive clone. Also, Giovanni and Domino discussed a mysterious project, which may have dangerous implications for the future...

CHAPTER 8: ON THE BORDERLINE

(Is there something you want, Psyche?)

Mewtwo's roommate sat down beside his feet, looking out onto the cityscape with him. The moon above was becoming increasing slimmer as the beginning of November approached. Evermore, the autumn was shifting into winter, and into the season in which the clone felt the greatest affinity for. For it was cruel, and without mercy to any who wandered within its icy grip. It was cold and empty, and generally harsh in its treatment to all, holding neither a grudge nor a sadistic motive, nor sympathy to any individuals. And while it made all suffer equally, it crystallized everything beneath ice, and buried the land beneath a pristine layer of snow, silencing the world. It was achingly beautiful, this transient epilogue of existence…and he imaged that if his soul were to have an environment inside itself, an imaginary world that his unconscious mind might create, it would be a barren, artic wasteland. Nothing warm and lush could grow there, nothing sweet and tender form itself.

Furthermore, no matter the discomfort of his body to the frigid chill the season brought, he could always curl into wherever he had made his lair and endure the cold. He would not freeze to death. Winter could not kill him. And like the moonlight path, he could wander freely in the winter world, when others would retreat to the warmth of their homes, or to the southern regions. And no one, not a soul, would bother him in those long, dark nights….

"Espe? Espeon?" His companion asked him quietly, breaking him from his thoughts, "Why do you do it Mewtwo? Why do you insist on staring at the moon any time it's there in the sky?"

He glanced down at her, and then back to the lunar sliver, (…Humans have familiars or signs that they believe represent an aspect of their soul. These can be in celestial star formations or of an obscure emblem. They use them to identify themselves with, believing that symbols will make it clearer of whom they are to other individuals through certain traits that they possess. From this, they have now created multiple branches symbology, each sign an indicator of something important to a people or an individual.)

(The moon, I feel, is the closest thatImay ever come to having a type of symbol for myself. No human has come up with a certain answer of how the moon was formed, and likewise, no human can explain how I have come to be in my completeness, in both my body and "soul". Yet one thing humans agree on is that the moon is derived from various elements that may be found on earth. Likewise, I am derived from a creature found on this planet. Also, the so-called "moonlight" is merely a reflection of a light so much purer, much truer. Similarly, I am a reflection of a true being, alike to the distorted, darker image of a creature in a pool of water.)

(…I have told many of this analogy, though some of that number have deemed it fit to debate this point with me. Still, I feel it is an apt description.)

"Espe?" Psyche asked, somewhat doubtful, "Are you sure there isn't another reason?"

He glanced at her, (What do you mean?)

"…Es. Espeon," she said, wrinkling her muzzle, "…The moon is alone in the sky. Likewise, you stand alone, as the only creature of your race. Doesn't that bother you?"

Mewtwo had thought on this point once or twice before, but had never mentioned it in front of his fellow clones, not desiring to give the impression of thinking of himself as an outcast, even among them. Even though, essentially, that was the case. For they were of existent species…no, of existent forms on this planet. They could meld with the races they resembled and be lost in the crowd. He however, could never know that type of blending. There was no one who looked like him on this planet, and he had the scientists who had made him to blame for the mutation his body was.

So, as he must, he answered, (No, it does not. Psyche, I do not view myself as a singular example of a new race, for that is a common error. What I am is nothing more than a genetically-manipulated, cloned Mew. The form that my body has taken is merely a result of man's attempt to make me an understandable creature…for whom does he known better than himself? Perhaps the geneticists responsible for my creation believed that in doing this, they would comprehend all of my desires, and so be able to control me as they might a child with toys. This was a mistake on their part, for in honesty humanity barely understands itself. How then could they have possibly hoped to understand a being that isn't even of their race?)

"Espeon?" The psychic asked, pressing her point, "You really don't mind that you're the only one like you? That there will never be a female of your general form?"

Mewtwo's tail lashed, (Why should I? After the torment I was put for, why should I wish for another to endure it, especially a female who would likely be frailer in body? No Psyche. And do understand, I do not dwell on it as another creature might. I am one monster of science…there need not be another, even if she might be my partner in form. To think otherwise would be foolish and dangerous dreaming. I would be a naïve, stupid creature for thinking differently.)

"…Espe?" She gazed up at him, her tone caught somewhere between wry sarcasm and honest concern, "…Mewtwo, do you hate yourself or something?"

The moonlight cast shimmering sparkles in his hard eyes. He seemed amused by the idea. ('Hate'…? You misunderstand me, Psyche. I am merely not a Narcissist. I have a realistic view of what I am, nothing more or less.)

"…Espeon," Psyche commented, another prod to a subject which had been brushed not days ago, "…You know, there are other individual-member species out there."

He frowned, (You speak of the almost extinct legendaries, which cling to life through incest and near immortality. But you forget: they are pokémon. And as I was not born as a pokémon, and do not have the mind of one, I cannot consider myself of their kind. However, neither am I human, for to be human means you possess human genes. And contrary to the beliefs of some, I do not have such. I am of neither category, Psyche. I am forced to walk between those worlds, being a part of both, yet neither. It is a fragile balancing act, and eventually, I am aware that I will fall.)

"…Espeon? Espe?" she questioned then, her eyes hard, like purple gemstone, "…Is that why you held back against that woman? Did you think it was just your time, and was ready to welcome it?"

"…Espe?" she inquired with a sad, yet stern tone, "…Do you want to die, Mewtwo?"

Mewtwo closed his eyes, (…I never wished to live-.)

"Espe! Es!" Psyche stated with a hiss, "No creature in this world does before they are conceived! I am talking about now!"

His tail twitched, (I know. And you will have to be content with my silence. I will not answer your inquires.)

(Now, if you please, I would prefer to be left alone.)

And so Psyche turned around, walking down to the entrance into the warehouse suite…the clone never suspecting that all the while, she had not been asking out of her own curiosity. Cassandra leaned back against the wall near the door, her expression indiscernible and her eyes cloudy with thought. Psyche looked up at her, asking if she was content with the answers. The assassin said 'yes', and thanked her for asking her inquiries to the clone. He would have never answered them if she had been the one asking. The female feline, having completed the thing requested of her, began to walk away…and then stopped, glancing back at the girl.

The fact was that Psyche knew as much as she did about Mewtwo from his computer files. When he had typed up what seemed to be something of a memorized log, she had learned much from peering over his shoulder…and he had not minded, at least initially. However, there were times at night when she saw him writing something, and then swiftly edited it out as soon as he sensed her presence. More and more she was beginning to suspect that those wiped files meant something important…but she dared not ask as she had about the girl named Amber. For he had said he had been forced to forget her, and that had perked her curiosity at how he could then remember the child at all. After Psyche had inquired upon this point, she had learned that slowly, over the last year since the Mt. Quena spring waters had healed him, the artificial blocks in his brain had been neutralized. The residual toxins used for his forced sedation had been fully cleansed from his memory cells, and as a result, Mewtwo had remembered his "siblings". Still, there were many things that he had never explained to her…yet what she did know brought her to a rather discomforting conclusion as she gazed back at the criminal agent.

"…Espe…es. Espeon," she declared quietly, her eyes narrowed with thought, "…You know, woman, you're more alike to him than not. Despite you being human, and female…you aren't so different. Even I can tell such."

Cassandra did not respond, even though she would soon indeed find the parallels as easily as Psyche did. For now though, she thought on all that Mewtwo had said. As she did, she found there was something that Psyche had forgotten to ask when concerning his metaphor:

Had his soul, like the phases of the moon, changed with time?

It would be some time before she fully grasped the answer to that.

The young man with pale blue eyes gazed upon the creatures of the dealer's residence, the Espeon and the woman. To his thoughts, nothing had changed from his original observations of them.

Butsomethingwas different…and that something was well in his favor. Finally, after months of preparation, his team was ready to face the pale demon who led those females. His pokémon were ready to fight andkillthe monster that had been the death of his little sister at long last! For a moment, as though to brace and steel himself for the battle ahead of him, he dosed himself with fury and hatred as he thought again of her, of his Sarah and the unfairness of her death, letting her sweet memory flood his mind and rekindle his black animal rage.

Oh, she had been such a pretty creature, with azure hair and such green, green eyes. No one had ever seen those eyes without wondering in hushed murmurs if they were colored contacts lenses or iris dye. Butno, they had been truly of the emerald sheen, and had drawn others to her like flies to honey. And indeed, that was what she had been, sweet and intoxicating to others. She had been the light in her brother's life, even as he'd dappled in the darker world of drugs and blood money.

Truthfully, he had never been high in any gang hierarchy, usually a delta member at best. But he had held skills that kept him above the shoe-lickers that stared in awe at their leaders, who were subjected to humiliating or even dangerous tasks as any expendable member of the group would be. For Thomas had been adept at raising pokémon to strengths that had stunned others, especially in how quickly the levels were attained without items like Rare Candies, which would only sicken the creature with the sudden massive consummation of sugar. Such a creature would become high on the nutrient-lacking substance, and then crash hard after the buzz was finished. After a single battle they were useless, and in gang wars, this was highly undesirable.

So Thomas had been given seemingly useless pokémon; and had then proceeded to train them for his bosses. His methods were strictly his own trade secret, and it didn't hurt that he had suppliers of TMs, and the even rarer HMs. Those connections had served him very well, and he had made certain the pokémon he had trained did not become attached to him. For that might cause issues when he handed the beasts back over to their owners…but he always regretted not being able to keep the creatures he had trained to such perfection.

His Mightyena, to this point, had been his only pokémon, his starter as a Poochyena.

Still, all had seemed to be going well….

But then his sister had drifted into his world. He believed the cause of this was the shady boyfriend she had made, and for a time Thomas had tried to thrown her back into her own world after the guy had ditched her. But she wouldn't go! By that point, the loser boyfriend had gotten her addicted to the cocaine from one of the newest dealers. And it had been a simple enough thing for her to get more of the drug, for a new "friend" of hers met with its dealer nearly every week and forked over the money for the stuff. So, despite Thomas's attempts, Sarah's life began to spiral down into depths further than he had ever dared let himself go. She began to disappear for weeks at a time….

Then, after one of those lengthy vanishing acts, she'd turned up dead in a local park…and the apparent cause of death had put him in a rage which had torn him from his group as he'd decided to go after the mysterious dealer itself.

Andthat dealerwas the abomination of an animal that gazed up at the moon from the abandoned warehouse roof! Now, Thomas Garnet had tracked it down, learned its routine, and was fully ready tomurderit! His team of dark pokémon was up for the challenge, ready to help their trainer in destroying the monster that was responsible for his sister's death. With a shout, Thomas released his Skarmory, the only creature who did not possess the dark element, and leapt unto its back. They flew towards their target, passing the blocks between them in fractions of a second.

And then he released the rest of his team around the pitifully surprised creature, and launched the assault!

Cassandra and Psyche heard the battle within a moment of its start. The Espeon immediately caught the attackers' scent, which was acrid like cigarette ash. With that stench, her suspicions for what type of creatures they might be spiked, with recognition and then with fear. Extending her senses, she growled at the confirmation of what was there. To her probing, she found what seemed to be living black holes, an emptiness of existence that represented a dark pokémon's life-force. The demons, you see, were immune to her extrasensory abilities where even particles of dust were not…and those absolute blank spots that she found on the roof above was what gave them away to her experienced senses.

Whether Mewtwo was aware of this quirk in the dark pokémon nature wasn't known to her, but she did know that Mewtwo could not fight his attackers easily, for they would not be affected by his signature moves. The clone also understood this well enough, and she could hear from where she stood his snarling and the heavy thuds of impact that resulted almost certainly from his lashing tail and limbs. Psyche wondered how long it would be before even he succumbed to the demons' abilities. He was at a vast disadvantage, even with his physical strengths.

And she…she could not go out there and help him! Her kits…they were so close to coming now! If she fought, it could hurt them! If she died, her mate's kits would die…and the thought broke her heart, tearing her between the desire to protect her guardian and companion, or the offspring that kicked inside her. Loyalty and friendship…or instinct and love?

"Espe! Es-," She cast Cassandra a desperate look, "You have to help him! I can't-."

The assassin bore her no pity, all too aware of what was happening outside, "I see no reason why I should. If he dies fighting against this assault my mission is complete, even if it's not by my own hands."

Hearing that, Psyche launched herself at the woman, biting down on her fingers viciously. The girl cursed, shaking her off, and gazed at her bleeding fingers. Damn her…!

"Espe! Espeon!" The psychic feline snarled, "Hesaved you when he said he wouldn't! A life for a life Cassandra…youowe hima debt!Repay it!"

Repay him….

Mewtwo lashed the thick of his tail at the Sneasel who threw itself at him, striking the egg-eater in midair and throwing it back. It landed on its claws, back-flipping to its feet and charging again. An Absol and Mightyena growled and circled around him, and without any warning that he could sense, they swiped at his limbs and sides, leaping upon him and biting down hard and deep with their fangs into his flesh and bone. The pain of it made him howl a low, agonized sound, before fury possessed him, making him pummel his fists into their faces and tear them from him as he bucked out of their hold, darting out of their reach. His wounds healed only just, the dark energy behind their blows lingering in the wounds.

Worse, unlike the wild pokémon that he was used to, these were trained beasts, and high level ones at that. No matter how crushing of blows he dealt them, they kept coming back for him, and more than once, he barely managed to lean away as they snapped towards his throat and second neck. If either of those were slashed open or severed, he would die regardless of his regenerative abilities. He would bleed out or drown in his own bloodbeforehe got the change to heal such vicious wounds, and even at full strength he doubted he would have enough time and energy to save himself.

So he fled and fought, his psychic bursts falling over them harmlessly. His waves of telekinetic energy dispersed as soon as they touched the beasts, and he could swear that the predators' eyes, of yellow and red, gleamed in mirth at the futility of his attempts. They had tasted his blood, and now they wouldn't stop until they had taken him down like the prey animal he was to them. The perverseness of the reversal struck Mewtwo deeply, and with a growl, he leapt into the air and caught the Murkrow who was trying to peck at his head and claw at his eyes out with its talons. He tore the pinions and other feathers from its wings with ruthless viciousness, and then took it by the skull. In a moment, it died as its head was wrung around like a poultry bird's. He let it fall. One down, three to-.

The Skarmory that had been swooping through the air, with its rider mounted on its back, gave a shrill cry at the death of its comrade, and slashed into the left side of the clone's face. While he was still reeling from the blow, clutching at his eye, it grabbed him hard around the middle and dived down, driving him into the roof in a sick parody of what the cloned Charizard had done to Ash Ketchum's in their battle so long ago on New Island. As it launched back into the air, releasing him, the clone was momentarily stunned…but the paralysis could not last in light of the still waging battle.

It was the Absol who dared to strike at him first, launching itself at the fallen clone. Mewtwo kicked upwards at its underbelly as it did, ignoring the threatening fangs and claws that glittered like alabaster and ebony in the moonlight. He launched the creature over himself, and it began to arch over the roof. If it was lucky, it would hit the edge of the roof.

It wasn't.

For one moment, it scratched at the stone rim, its claws digging white tracks into the concrete as it tried to scramble back unto the roof…before Mewtwo's tail lashed into its face, knocking it over the edge before its companions could drag it back to them by the scruff of its neck. It fell the several stories with a howl, hitting the pavement of the alleyway with a sickening thud. For a time, it did not move, except to feebly attempt to rise…before collapsing onto the ground as it slipped into unconsciousness, its bones broken by the unexpected fall. It was alive, unlike the crow, but barely. The trainer withdrew it from the air, not bothering to do the same with the scavenger bird. It was dead, and a Poke'Ball would not hold a corpse.

The Mightyena and Sneasel, spying what had happened to their comrades, circled the psychic warily. That they had the advantage in element and (perhaps) experience did not mean that the feline would be easily taken down. They knew that now, and knew that they needed to think before rushing in recklessly, or else they might perish like the shadow bird. Then, with a flicker of a glance, they launched as one from either side. Mewtwo shifted towards the smaller one, his tail purposefully knocking the wolf away. The psychic now grasped the Sneasel around the throat, and to his dismay the dark wolf clung to the tail that had struck it, sinking its teeth into the clone and firmly latching on. But the telepath's pain was overwhelmed with shock as the Sneasel shot a beam of ice into his face. The clone dropped the talon-wielding mammalian immediately, cursing himself for forgetting that it had other elemental abilities. Theyalllikely did, and had only been resorting to dark attacks in the attempt to take him down quickly. He scrambled to get the ice out of his face and eyes, so as to breath, and arched his spine as he felt claws slice deeply into his back, feeling blade-fingers puncture into his belly. He staggered, shaking them off as a desperate prey animal might its hunters. He could not loose to these creatures! He would not die here,not like this!

He clawed the ice from his face, gazing around with reddened eyes. Again, they were circling him, swiping at him…his blood lay in smears along the roof. His body was shaking despite how he tried to control it, protesting movement…he tried to heal, and cursed. He had run out of energy for the ability.

Fine. He would just have to continue on the hard way!

He launched himself at the canine, who attempted to leap out of his way. But Mewtwo snagged one of its hind legs, dragging it back to him, and then, not caring about how odd it would appear, he straddled its back and threw an arm around its neck, pulling its head back. The wolf bucked and heaved, attempted to launch its rider, but with no avail. Mewtwo's tail wrapped around its back legs, and he bit down hard on its ear. He had heard the damnable dogs would submit to such. Indeed, it went still and whimpered, though this might have been from the lack of oxygen it was receiving from how Mewtwo was straggling its windpipe. He glared at the Sneasel that was cussing at him in its sharp tongue, and hissed to its companion to submit.

But the lupine refused. This was a fight to the death, not of leadership and dominance. It reared its head back, snapping at Mewtwo's muzzle…and was rewarded for its effort by Mewtwo breaking its neck.

He left it there, dead or paralyzed, and faced the remaining Sneasel. His body quivered with weariness, the bites and slashes taking their toll, but he paid that no mind. The Sneasel glanced at its companion, torn between self-preservation, fear, and the need for vengeance. It foolishly chose the later. Mewtwo caught it around its ribs as it leapt at him, shutting his eyes as it shot an Ice Beam at him, keeping it at arm's length is it slashed at him…he squeezed tightly, hearing ribs begin to crack and break. It howled and continued to slash. Fool. The bones were turned inwards now, and with one tight twist of his crushing grip, its ribs pierced its lungs and other internal organs. It squealed, and then began to sputter as blood filled its lungs, its heart struggling to beat after being punctured. That heart now released its vital fluid into the cavities of its chest, not into its veins. He let the dying pokémon fall to the concrete. It would perish slowly, and in agony. There would be no escaping the darkness that pervaded its very soul.

And then, with a type of fury born from exhaustion and the grimness that filled him whenever he had been forced to kill, he launched several of his destructive shadow balls at the soaring steel pokémon. It managed to elude many, but finally, two hit it straight on. With a piercing shriek, it fell to the roof and did not rise. It had fainted with the power behind those blows. Its trainer had leapt off right before impact, and now stood, seething and trembling with rage at the state of its team, wounded or dead. His best friend, his Mightyena, might never rise again. His Sneasel and Murkrow would never see another dawn. And as for the Skarmory and Absol, they would likely be fine after they were rushed to a nearby Center…but they would be scarred by the loss of their friends and, for the Absol, potentially her mate. Mewtwo, not knowing he had one more opponent to face yet, glared at the human, his body torn but alive.

He would play no mind-games with the man. He was too weary for such, and so the clone gave the human a simple choice, (Surrender to me now or die! I will not give you a second warning.)

Thomas just glared, "Fuck you! Tyranitar, come on out!"

His other beasts had had their orders from the start. This one however would need to be commanded, or else it would likely destroy everything on the roof. With a horrible plummeting sensation in the pit of the clone's stomach, he gazed up at the fully healthy, awesomely powerful dark monster that appeared before him. It could bring down mountains with its rock abilities, and that elementary type would not help Mewtwo in the least with the creature's all too potent psychic immunity. And the clone knew very, very few other elementary type attacks to use that rock type to his advantage. All he knew in the water order was a very weak Water Gun, which he used it case he was parched. It would not take down this dinosaur; and the feline was already near the point of collapse.

Yet Mewtwo glared and held his ground. He had been made to be the most powerful pokémon of all! Certainly, he had been designed without the awareness of a dark type…but no matter. He would fight it, and he would defeat it! He would NOT die here,not now!

And then it charged.

It barreled into him with the force of a mach truck, its armor shell as hard as stone and spiked like the stalactites of a cave. These spikes sliced open the clone's flesh and punctured shallow wounds, making Mewtwo grit his teeth as he attempted to hold the creature back. His tired muscles quivered at the immense force that sought to pummel him into the ground, and he howled as its jaws reached down, driving razor sharp teeth into his shoulder. The splash of blood it brought further weakened the clone, but for him to surrender was the equivalent of death in this situation. He knew this, and so continued to fight, ramming his fists into the armor that refused to give way, tearing himself from the creatures grip and slamming his tail into it.

It teetered on its short legs; but was not weakened by Mewtwo's now frail attacks. The psychic's energy was spent…he was loosing too much blood. Only his sheer willpower kept him from collapse, and by extension, from death. And eventually, as Giovanni had once said, his mind would have to submit to the abuse his body was being put through. Thinking of the man, thinking of what else the bastard had said to taunt him in the attempts to make him break fueled the clone's anger into energy, the fire of it short and quick to be expended. Mewtwo wavered as he flew over the Tyranitar, smashing his tail in the back of its head, hoping to knock it out. But all he earned for his effort was a bleeding tail and a roar of rage as it twisted around and clamped down onto his tail with its teeth.

Mewtwo groaned with pain, and abruptly, his body failed him, as though waiting for that signal of his anguish. He jerked, falling from the sky, even though his spirit still sought to retaliate and pull free. But his limbs were too heavy, and the dinosaur grabbed him and slapped him onto the concrete like a slab of dead meat. And that was what Mewtwo was now, he realized with an appalled start. He was meat, a feast of feline for the reptilian darkling. His sense of self-preservation made him attempt to crawl away, and the Tyranitar responded to this by stomping onto his left leg. The bone fractured, causing the clone to howl a short, anguished cry. He could hear the trainer laughing at his pain.Laughing!With a triumphant cry, the young man ordered his pokémon to finish the psychic off with a Hyper Beam. As the gold, pure energy began to gather, the light spilled over the clone, making his fur look scarlet, and his blood black.

And then Mewtwo saw her. Cassandra. Staring at him, at the entire thing…god knew how long she had been standing there, simply watching as he was battered and weakened to this point. And seeing her there, something in Mewtwo snapped. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was resolve. He did not know, nor did he have the time to analyze it. But he called out for her, wanting for her to do something, to stop them from killing him.

Because he wanted to live. As seductive as death was to him, he wanted to be able to choose how he would die. And he did not wish it to be this. Not THIS!

(Cassandra…help me…!)

After that plea, he could do nothing more - he was spent. Those were the only words he was able to utter before the darkling broke his tail while shifting to precisely position the destructive beam, and he started to black out from the blood-loss and the agony. From what seemed to be a dark tunnel, he watched as Cassandra swayed, contemplating his words…. He watched as she pulled out her knife and rushed towards them…. He watched as she paused, poised to finish him off before the forming Hyper Beam was released….

And then he watched as she leapt upwards and drove her blade beneath the slit of the demon's armor.

The beam was choked off as the dinosaur bellowed in pain. As it staggered backwards in shock, it released the clone from its oppressive weight. The trainer and his pokémon both cried out in rage, and the Tyranitar, instead of killing the clone as was desired, charged after the woman who had wounded it…and the dark angel was headed straight for the trainer. The young man, seeing this, started, but it was too late for him to run…and there was nowhere for him to go anyhow. Cassandra caught him as a spider would a fly, an arm around his waist, the blade at his throat, piercing his neck so it shed a trickle of blood.

"Call the Tyranitar off or you die!"

The man paused, torn between the longing for revenge and the desire to live to enjoy it thoroughly.

She dug the blade a little deeper into his flesh, "Call it off! Two of your pokémon are already dead! If you join them, the others will perish evenmorepainfully."

And as much as Thomas wanted to kill the dealer, even throw away his own life in the process, the idea of being the death of four more pokémon, who were only following his orders, who were hisfriends, was not a thought he could take the burden of. His sister was not avenged…and he still seethed and longed to murder the clone. But he would not be responsible for the deaths of the rest of his team. He could not be…for Sarah would have only looked at him in disgust and shame for allowing it to happen, despite that his efforts were for her sake.

"Tyranitar, return!" he cried, holding up its Poke'Ball.

And in a flash of red light, it obeyed…and the fight was over.

Before he could blink, Cassandra had struck him over the head with the hilt of her blade, knocking him out cold, "Damn kid…murder isnotfor amateurs. Doesn't he pay attention to the media? Stupid,stupidmoron!"

She took away his Poke'Balls and let him lay there. After stashing them on her own belt, she went over to Mewtwo, seeing him barely peering up at her in his fragile state. She knelt then, holding her knife to his throat.

She could kill him now, with ease, and they both knew it. Mewtwo had no strength left to resist her….

Yet…she refrained. She retracted the blade and sheathed it.

Then, she placed Mewtwo's arm about her shoulders and heaved him to his feet, grasping him around the waist with her other arm. With a grunt, they began to walk towards the stairway and back into Mewtwo's home, which seemingly was proving to be anything but his sanctuary. After she had laid her target onto the couch, she returned outside and did the same process with the young man, a boy in her mind, despite the fact that he appeared to be several years older than the assassin she could boast. All the same, Cassandra stashed him away in "her" room, where she tied a couple extra belts of hers nice and tight around his wrists and ankles. He was still out cold.

Afterwards, she returned to Mewtwo's side and helped him attend to his wounds.

Neither spoke the entire time.

Several hours later, with Mewtwo bandaged and resting, having put himself through a series of Recovers when he could, Cassandra reclined in a chair next to her bed, prodding the boy with the blunt end of her blade. Thomas moaned, and so she pressed the blunt end to his lips, against his teeth. Now, whatever he thought that was made him wake up real fast, jerking away from the hard rod of plastic and leather swiftly. He blinked his cool, pale blue eyes to adjust to the light, and saw the woman sitting there, her eyes conveying a smirk that her mouth did not. In that moment, her expression was very alike to one that Mewtwo might create, except that it held a mirthful edge to it that was altogether more unnerving.

Still, he cursed, "Damn it, why'd you-?"

She interrupted him with a rather disdainful tone, "You're not injured, imbecile, at least not yet…so you have no excuse to continue sleeping. Now you'll answer my questions honestly…otherwise, you're not going home with all your tender parts, got it?"

Thomas nodded numbly…he could tell the young woman was perfectly serious, despite her rather nonchalant mood. Her voice indicated that fact well enough, for all her glee as she threatened him.

Cassandra smiled, but the grin was hardly warm or kind, "Alright, boy. First off, what's your name?"

She would likely sense an evasion, so he answered honestly, "Thomas Garnet. Why-?"

"Quiet. I'm interrogating, not you. Now tell me: why are you here Tommy?"

She was purposefully provoking him. He would either shut up, or reveal more than he would later like. Considering that her blade was pointing towards his groin, she was willing to bet he'd take the latter option. Men were oh so predictable sometimes….

He didn't clam up, just as she'd predicted. "I came here to kill the bastard you defended!"

She had to smirk at that…the man seemed completely unaware that he was insulting her intelligence by stating something so obvious. She pointed that out in her own cheery way, "As admirable as that is, I already knew that. Give me a real answer, and you'll keep the ability to sire children."

Thomas glared, but his eyes were terrible weak compared to the sharpness of Mewtwo's. She was not affected in the least…and she expressed that by jabbing at him. He squealed a response, "All right, all right! God, you're a real bitch, do you know that? I can see why you stick with him."

She rolled her eyes, "Please…I feel no love for the guy. Now answer Tommy dear."

The trainer snarled out the response, not looking at her as he said, "That damn creature killed my sister. He fucked her up-."

Her eyes narrowed, "Oh? How, exactly?"

Was this boy a relative of the female who…?

Taking no notice of her suddenly keener interest, Thomas blabbered on, staring at the wall, "He sold her some new sort of synthetic drug a few months ago. She overdosed on it. Her body turned up in the park, and the cops said some guy had screwed her dead body. And-."

But by this point, Cassandra was laughing at him. Her chest heaved with her amusement, and she pressed her fingertips to her brow, barely concerned with trying to control her reaction to his words. It had been solongsince she'd heard something so veryridiculous…!

"What the fuck do you think is so funny?" Thomas cried, outraged and fuming. He hardly thought it was a comical matter!

The assassin quieted, peering at him between her fingers, "Did you have them make a genetic profile to if the semen came from a pokémon?"

He stared at her blankly, and then seethed, "I know it was him! She was going to him for drugs-."

"I never said she didn't. But according to what your target has told me, those drugs can't make you overdose even if you consumed a whole bag in one sitting. Oh, it'll mess with you horribly, and you'll probably go into a coma and never recover…but it won'tkillyou. And furthermore, this sounds more like she tried something else, something stronger, and took a little too much. Her boyfriend or whoever was with herprobablythought she'd went out of it and decided to have some fun with her while she was in that state. Then, afterwards, he must have figured out she was dead and tossed the body. Trust me, I know how it works. I'm from an organization where that happens all the time. Hell, I got a body in my hall once. Pissed me off…it was a mess to take care of."

Thomas just gaped at her, and then shakily asked, "And ishefrom this organization too?"

She sobered then with a small smile, "Originally, yes. But he dispersed from the group. He's an independent, and a relatively straight one at that."

Thomas was now rather confused, "But…if you aren't part of the same group…then why are you here? Are you his illicit lover or something?"

The Team Rocket agent glared, and he quivered instinctively under that silver gaze. "Do Ilooklike someone who would screw a pokémon? No, boy. I'm here for the exact same reason as you, lucky for you. I'm here to murder him-."

Thomas's confusion was so intense that he found him questioning her despite her displeasure, "But then why did you stop me? I was so close to-."

"No, yourpokémonwas close to killing him," she corrected, her voice gaining an angry edge to it, "There's a vast difference between the two. And to put it quite simply…he ismyprey. Notyours!"

She leaned over him as she said it, her face above his to make her point very clear. He nodded with a shiver, and then, satisfied, she sank back into her chair, giving him a smug look, "Good that you understand. Now, in a few hours, you are going to be transported to the Pokémon Center, so you had better think up a good story for your team's wounds so you aren't thrown into jail for pokémon abuse. Now, I'll wrap that bloody bump of yours, but then I'm off to make sure you haven't killed my assignment."

And that was exactly what she did. The bandage she tied was tighter than necessary, but she was stilled miffed with the idiot. Suddenly, without even a twitch of warning, he reached up, taking her wrist, looking her square in the face, "You're passionate about killing him, aren't you?"

She tore her wrist from his grip, snorting. "I wouldn't say-."

He saw through it with experienced eyes, "Girl, I've known women like you who want to get at a man they supposedly "hate". But their feelings shift right in the middle of their fight. You just be careful that yours doesn't turn into the opposite of what you want...the line is a hell of lot thinner between the two sides of the heart than you'd like to think. And passion, in you aren't careful, can make you cross it."

Cassandra's eyes flashed…she set an almost kind hand on his shoulder, as though pitying him for his stupidity, or maybe actually acknowledging his words….

And then she grasped at his clothes, plunging her other fist into his gut…he crumpled over her clenched hand, gasping in shock and pain, only able to listen as she whispered into his ears, "Suggest that again, and you won't make it to the Center."

And then she left him there, returning to her target.

She sat across from Mewtwo some hours later once the boy was gone, teleported to the authorities by Psyche. She explained what the young man had revealed to her briefly, asking if the female had been the one he had mentioned previously. Rather reluctantly, Mewtwo answered her question with a shake of his head, saying that the creature in question had not possessed a family. Content with that, Cassandra commented absentmindedly that she had thought it a bit too coincidental, and left it at that. Now sitting up, Mewtwo flexed his limbs, and with a glow of blue light used his Recover move again. It would still take a couple days for his wounds to fully heal, and these healing waves were draining what little energy he did have. But he was already well enough to sit up straight and gaze at the woman. He scarcely knew what he should say to her however. His rescue had not been something he had honestly thought she would commit, despite his plea to her.

Yet, he tried nonetheless, feeling an obligation to do so that he quite resented, (Cassandra…I do not usually-.)

She twirled her blade, looking as if she might throw it at him, "Don't thank me. I didn't do it for you."

His eyes flashed, (Is that so?)

She stood and threw the blade. Mewtwo, sensing its trajectory, did not move. To twitch would have made it bury itself in his throat. As it thrust itself into the furniture a hair's width from his neck, she stepped over to him, pulling it from its fabric sheath, "Yes. I did it for me."

And as she began to walk away, she glanced back at him, "A life for a life Mewtwo…my debt to you is repaid. Oh, and by the way…I told you so! Next time, if someone attacks you over your drugs, you'll die. I won't help you. I'll helpthem…you'd do well to remember that."

Yet…one more trial had to be passed…and afterwards, she would have to wonder if she could really do as she said.

For Cassandra had run out of her pills tonight. She had run out of the experimental drug she had become hooked on when she was sixteen; which her doctor had given her and had never taken her off of. Even when aware that she was taking higher and higher doses to sooth the disorder that sought to make her useless in Giovanni's campaign, he had kept refilling her prescription. But she had not gone and had that done before she'd left. She had been running low, yes, but she had never thought she would be trapped here. She had never thought this mission would take more than a week. And that had been a grave mistake on her part.

For now she fell into a fitful sleep, which preceded the withdrawal her body was going to put her through for her abuse of the drug which was supposed to keep her sane and willing to live. The drug which was a dangerous mix of two chemicals which were supposed to fight off pain, and depression. It had never been approved by the health department, and had been made in between the years of a failed and successful pill….

Her drug was brimming with codeine, a pain reliever…and fluoxetinehydrochloride, commonly now called Prozac.

Both were relatively mild drugs, and the first would usually only result in mild symptoms in low doses…but the doctor had believed it to be too weak to treat the girl. He had upped the percentage, added some purer morphine, so that even with the presence of fluoxetine - which usually weakened the painkiller - its effects were not fully degraded. And Cassandra was now taking over twice the recommended amount…she was addicted to an opium drug. Combined with her disorder, which wasn't getting proper treatment and had horrible symptoms of its own, she was in for pure hell. Muscle pain and twitching were some of the first, milder symptoms…in the end it was going to get far, far worse for her. And on top off the already potentially disastrous situation, she was going to betrapped with her targetwhen the withdrawal hit!

And then, in her mind, the screaming that was only barely being repressed began to seep fully into her brain….

"…NO! Don't…please don't sensei! Sensei NO!"

Author's Note:…Well, that was fun. I found out two things from this chapter. A) I love fight scenes, and B) I LOVE Cassandra's dialogue with human guys (she has this thing against men…it'll be fully explained later, but for now…). That was a lot of fun!

Review, if you would be so kind. After all the effort I put into writing up these chapters, I like knowing people have read it and have their thoughts on it. Plus, I'd be encouraged to write up the next chapter quicker, ;). I'm a sucker for reviews!

At any rate, more about the drug next time. Mewtwo's reaction to it is…veryinteresting.

- WiseAbsol, a.k.a. Abby