Angelic Shadows: Incomplete 2000s Edition

by WiseAbsol

With his memory of Mewtwo restored, Giovanni sends one of his Elite to kill him. While Agent Cassandra has no reservations about accepting the mission, there is much she hasn't been told about her target. This is an earlier version of the story, before it underwent revision in 2010. As such, it is incomplete, but it may be of interest to readers who want to compare the versions.

14. Vows and Decisions

Disclaimer: I do not own pokémon or the lyrics to Vanessa Carlton's song "Paradise."

Author's Note:Dear god…it has beenmonthssince I updated this story. Not that I don't have reasonable explanations for the pause: writingMoonlight Vigilante, working on college-related paperwork, school assignments, and so forth. Still, it's been too long since the cast ofAngelic Shadowswas in the spotlight. Plus, I've missed working on a major fic (this is now my main work sinceThe Phoenix Rose Sagahas concluded). Now, it would be nice if I could have some lesser works completed (glares atHollowandFaint), but with my limited hours, my progress is slow at best.

Anyhow, the irony of the chapter number does not escape me: we are at the unlucky number thirteen, where everything goes to hell. Rather befitting, as this is a major turning point in the story, and the last huge sequence of events before we hit the next plotline. Just one more chapter to go until the second arc begins (and the introductory chapters are officially over!). Happily, the next entry has already been written, somaybethe wait between updates won't be soabysmallylengthy.

At any rate, this episode rather scares me, so warnings will be provided: this chapter contains attempted rape, spousal abuse, murder, and a decent dose of violence and general angst. Also, I am not sexist, but Cassandra is, so references to men as pigs…well, most of the guys I know are decent people who are less hormonal than I am, but Cassandra isn't so lucky to know those people. So just for the record, I don't mean to infer that anyone with a penis is a sex-hungry bastard. If I accidently offend someone, I apologize – it's not my intention to be insulting.

Beyond that, I hope you all enjoy the entry…and again, I am sorry for the long wait.

Previously:On the eve of his intended death, Mewtwo decides to make his final twilight a comfortable one: with delicious food, with music and dance, and with the company of the woman who is to be his murderer. In the following hours, Cassandra struggles with what she must do, plays along with Mewtwo's desires, and as intimacy develops between the pair, she uses their closeness to try to assassinate the clone. Ultimately, though, she cannot follow through with the kill. Allowing him to live, Cassandra spends the rest of the night with Mewtwo, who takes on the burden of planning how they will fool Team Rocket into believing that her mission was successful. At dawn, the safety measures taken, Cassandra boards a flight back to Viridian City and leaves Mewtwo behind, neither believing they will see the other again….

---

CHAPTER 14: VOWS AND DECISIONS

The first week of November passed tranquilly, its quiet atmosphere empathizing the clone's silence. As he refused to speak, his roommate could only gather his thoughts from what her empathic senses could decipher: his sudden muteness was not stemmed from severe emotions. He did not permeate the air around him with anger, sorrow, contentment, or any other sensation of the spirit. No, to Psyche it was as if he had been hollowed out. She also noted that for a majority of the inching nights and days, he shrouded himself in the shade as he gazed out onto the cityscape. His once clear, keen eyes roamed over the urban scenery in random paths, as if searching for something in vain, and so their luster grew dull as time drifted onwards. His friend could have almost believed him senile through unprecedented overnight aging; however, his form remained lithe and youthful, and he held himself just as proudly as he always had. Timid understanding blossomed in Psyche's mind as she puzzled over him, revealing a hidden truth which in weeks before had been concealed by her ignorance. This behavior was not a new development: the clone was living as he had in the months before the angel had arrived and shaken his passive lifestyle.

Realizing this, the new mother's heart sank as she watched him stare out into space, forlorn and without hope. He had always been like this, hadn't he? She simply hadn't known any better before. Instead she had always mistaken his mellow nature for thoughtfulness, and not for what it actually was: listlessness. It was a foreign and difficult notion for Psyche to believe that a single human could bring such life and light into her charismatic companion, and in her absence steal it away…however, the proof was evident before the female's eyes.

In the morning glow of the present, he stood alone, expressionless, a witness to the paling of the land as a chill spread over it. The time of sunlight was fleeing; the leaves of the trees below turning to dusty gold; the first flurries of pristine snow were whirling in the ivory sky. Psyche's kits grew fatter by the day from their mother's milk, and currently slept in the warmth of the penthouse beneath the adults' paws. The Espeon sat several feet behind the clone, her forked tail whipping out at the frozen white falling in the still air. Mewtwo's own fifth extremity, in contrast, was raised and motionless, yet her eyes followed his paw as he lifted it out before him; a cottony snowflake landed in his palm. The downy ice melted into a teardrop, and the male gazed at the liquid as if it was the most holistic element of the universe.

"Espe, espeon?" his friend murmured, saddened by his display. "Mewtwo, what are you doing?"

The clone did not respond: what could he say? He lifted his head and turned his gaze upon Psyche to acknowledge her presence. The snow floated down around them, covering golden leaves in a white pall.

"Espe es? Es espe! Espe…es, espe," Psyche ventured, her voice carrying an edge of aggravation at his behavior. "Why don't you just go after her? That can't be so hard! It's obvious you wished she'd never gone...and I doubt she wanted to leave you either."

For the first time in days Mewtwo's eyes focused, hardened, and his brow furrowed with anger. (You dare presume that she and I…? We have all made our choices, Espeon, and we have made the most reasonable ones we could to ensure our continued survival! And do not act as if that woman and I have fallen back in love…that is not a valid assumption,at least not for me.)

"Espeon! Espe…? Espeon…esespe! Es, es, espe. Es…espe: 'es,'" his friend argued back, "That's not what I'm saying! Are you really that dense…? You couldn't have fallen for her again because you…you neverstoppedloving her in the first may have buried your feelings, Mewtwo, but they never died. And as for her…even if you blocked it out, I sensed it: she didn't want to go back 'home.'"

The female lifted her muzzle, staring up at the frigid, unyielding creature before her. Her almond eyes watered with frustrated tears she fought to blink away. Why couldn't the clone see that he should be beside that human? Why couldn't he understand that he now had a chance she would give nearly anything for: the chance to have his mate once more? The lilac pokémon smiled bitterly, her purple irises meeting her companion's amethyst ones. "Espe, es? Espe…espeon?" she murmured, "Yet you'll ignore that, won't you? Despite its implications, you…god, Mewtwo, do you even remember when you last smiled and were genuinely happy?"

For the Espeon had recently mulled over all of her memories of the clone and had not found what she'd sought within them. Yes, she had seen Mewtwo quirk a grin numerous times, and had heard him laugh - but those incidents had been in expression of ill humor, triumph, gratefulness, or bitterness. Never, not once, had she seen him truly joyful; she doubted anyone had…or at least anyone who had known him before or after he had possessed a loving partner. Psyche's words, at any rate, seemed to penetrate Mewtwo's mind. As she watched, the clone's face blanched and his eyes widened minutely. He turned away before she could see the extent of how her question had affected him, yet his tail twisted sharply behind him as if to dismiss her, which little concerned his companion - she had said all she had wanted to say. Wordlessly she turned away from him, returning inside to her own warm and soft worlds, and wondered if Mewtwo would be strong enough to go after his….

For what was freedom worth without happiness…?

A few days later, Mewtwo's behavior shifted. He began to purge the information from and dissemble the machines he had created, and began to sift through the other possessions in his home, removing items that seem indicative of his character, as if desiring to erase his presence from the place. He began to arrange the furniture to be more suitable for smaller creatures, and asked if he could do anything that would make Psyche and her kits more comfortable. When she said there was nothing more he could provide them, the clone then worked on his garden furiously, transplanting dirt, hardy vegetation, and seedlings to the roof. When he had completed the project, the level held the potential of blossoming into a makeshift park; when the next year's harvest arrived, it would bear roots, berries, and nuts for the young family. He had meant to forge it for some time now, in a gesture of fondness, but he'd been…distracted…previously. Eventually, after making certain that the building's electricity and the water pumps were still operating efficiently, the replica sighed as he stood within the abode that would no longer be his home. Certainly, he needed to leave it anyhow for his safety, but now he had a vastly different reason for departing.

He even cradled his new destination at the forefront of his mind….

Empty-handed but for his travelling cloak, which he threw on to keep at bay the chilly bite of encroaching winter, he came to kneel before Psyche and her children. His baritone voice was low and quiet, mindful of the sleeping kits as he murmured, (I trust you will take care of this place, as it will be your sanctuary for however long you choose to dwell within it. My hope is that your family will be comfortable here now that my renovations are complete, Psyche.)

"Espe. Espe, es. Espe – espe, es," The sleek lavender pokémon said, her eyes gleaming, "I'm certain we will be…and if trouble comes along, we have friends in the area – they will help us if need be."

Nodding, the clone of Mew stood as he charged his powers of teleportation; his pale fur and irises began to frost with icy, blue light when he spoke again, (…I have enjoyed your company, little vixen. As I doubt we shall see one another again, I wish you the best of luck for the future.)

"Es! Es, espeon?" Upon sensing the influx of his psychic energies, which marked that he was about to vanish from her presence forever, she called out: "Wait! Mewtwo, what are you going to do?"

One last time, the creation graced his companion with his telltale smirk. (I, Psyche? I will keep a vow I made; that is all.)

(Farewell, Espeon.)

With that goodbye, the cold power around him swelled and imploded, and he departed from his sanctuary at last, a wanderer once again. For a time after his disappearance, his friend stared at the empty space where he had stood, before lowering her eyes slowly to her kits, who were curled into tiny orbs of fur again her stomach. Slowly she lay down fully and nuzzled them for solace, and feeling her touch they squeaked softly in their sleep and flailed their limbs gently. Their mother knew as well as Mewtwo did where he had chosen to journey to: he was returning to his homeland, to his personal Gehenna, so to defiantly follow his partner. Although saddened as she murmured her own farewell to her ex-roommate, the Espeon smiled from the strange contentment that accompanied the bittersweet thought….

Outside, beyond her notice, the full moon began to rise.

---

Twilight was beating down the day, bruising the sky navy blue and charcoal black as the bloody sun fled over the western horizon. Cassandra, having phoned the Viridian City Gym to announce her arrival in Team Rocket's hometown, was escorted to a glossy, dark limousine awaiting her outside of the flight terminal. Boarding the vehicle after her identification was confirmed, she buckled in and ignored the tentative attempts of the driver to begin a conversation with her. He was evidently new to his position; otherwise, he would have known how unresponsive she was after returning from her missions, and so wouldn't have wasted his energy. The first person she would actually speak with was Giovanni, and that would only be to give her superior her report. Until then, her lips would not flutter open with anything but single phonetics.

As she leaned her head against the window, able to feel the smooth coolness of the glass beneath her dark hair, she watched the drifting pokémon and humans returning to their homes after a long day at work. Everyone on the streets and within the clustered buildings seemed identical in that they were all grinning and laughing gleefully. Certainly some must be faking, Cassandra supposed, yet still they struck her as oblivious to the darkness of her world, and to the eternal night that her soul was trapped within. In an expression of the truth that misery hated the joy of others, the assassin closed her eyelids and let her remaining senses usurp vision's control. Even through the thick, tinted glass, she could hear the heavy, driving beats of urban music from the radios of the local college campus, where students sought to drown out each other's choice artists by upping the volume. In contrast, the interior of the limousine was quiet, and the leather beneath her was warm and soft, and smelled richly of a spice that could very well be cinnamon. The recycling, heated air vaguely tasted ashy like cigar smoke, and was tainted with the sharp and sweet fragrance of wine. Considering Giovanni's ideal vices, these trace elements seemed natural of him to impart upon the vehicle, and so did not surprise her. Fortunately, her godfather had spared her from having to endure the more repulsive odors of wild sex. That, luckily, was strictly reserved for his bed, and she knew from when she had been little – for she had stayed with him for years before moving into her own apartment - that he was, if nothing else, a cleanly man for one of his sinful nature. Indeed, his bedding was replaced weekly, if she recalled accurately, and now that she thought on that attribute, she could detects the smell of citrus cleaners in the car. As well, not a bit of trash littered the carpet - not even a gum wrapper - although various treats and drinks were offered in the shallow bar attached to the dividing wall. However, she reached for none of the edibles: she was not hungry or thirsty. She had dined while on the plane.

Too soon for her liking, the limousine reached the cluster of buildings that marked the base of her organization. The driver announced that they had arrived, but the woman did not lift her eyelids: she did not want to gaze upon the familiar area, and so waited for them to pull up to the main building before opening her eyes. Letting herself out of the car and trusting that her luggage would be returned to her home, the Grigori Agent walked purposefully to the reception counter. Spying her entrance, the receptionist merely nodded to the assassin and motioned to security to allow the female into Giovanni's office unhindered. The giants obeyed dutifully and did not bother to check the young woman for weapons. What need was there? This was their superior, the left hand of their commander, and a trusted soldier to the cause of Team Rocket. Cassandra Winters was among the membership of the Elite Children, and as of such, her loyalty had never been questioned.

Cassandra mentally snorted at the irony of that faith as she stepped before her godfather's desk and handed him the mission detail she had filled out during her return flight. Coal eyes raced over the contents, analyzing and deducing; his bronze face remained expressionless as he did so. Without inquiry he seemed to accept her words as she described the obstacles she had encountered during her time in the foreign land. What less could be expected of their ex-fighting machine than a few failures in successfully hunting it down? All that mattered was that, in the end, his assassin had succeeded: the proof lay within the icebox on his ebony desk, and that was enough to satisfy him. Already his geneticists had checked its contents and had confirmed that the vital organ was the clone's, and still viable for sampling to add. So if Giovanni suspected any fabrication in her story, he never voiced his suspicion. He merely handed the file to Agent 009 to read through at her leisure. As the blond teenager began to skim, the crime lord pulled other files from a cabinet of his desk and spread them out before his assassin.

The dark angel's mouth twitched downwards at the sight of the manila folders. Was Giovanni planning to send her on another mission so soon? True, she would go if it was his will, but she felt extremely weary presently, with much of her listlessness stemmed from her residual depression in departing from her still living target. Yet no, the files were merely filled with updates on Team Rocket's doings in the past month of her absence. Two of them were sealed, and she left those for when she could savor the privacy of her own residence. Instead, her eyes caught on the sheet ordering that she bring Shadow into the Team Rocket Pokémon Center: apparently, like all of the pokémon in the organization's ownership, the dark fox needed some new vaccinations as soon as she could get him in. She wondered vaguely if the confidential files she now possessed played some role in the surprise demand.

However, when she found the moving and wedding details that she was to participate in, thoughts of Giovanni's newest schemes fled her mind. Apparently, her apartment was being emptied out and her possessions made to endure two separate shipments. The address they were being sent to was downright infuriating, but she kept her anger in check – still, the idea that her things would mingle with those of Zachariah's condominium was utterly distasteful. Of course, since they were to be married, the assimilation should not have come as a shock to her…still, she braced herself as she looked over the wedding plans. Thankfully, it would be small, held at the organization's own chapel (she had to keep herself from snorting at the hypocrisy and unbelievable gall of their priest) with only a dozen people attending. These attendees included Giovanni, the remaining members of his family, some of the Elite who were not on missions presently, and a select few of Zachariah's friends. It could have been far worse, she mused. True, the extent of the preparations made it appear a far larger event, but that was merely Giovanni's style of not half-assing anything. At least he respected her personality enough to take it into regard: her wedding would be minimal yet spectacular, and that was a kindness.

Domino's scathing voice broke her from her thoughts: "You cut it a little close, Agent Winters – any longer and we would have had to come and save your sorry ass from the mutant kitty."

Silver eyes narrowed as they focused on the younger female. "As I described in my report, I encountered some difficulties during my stay in that city," Cassandra said evenly, not rising to the bait. "However, I succeeded in my task, and you bear proof of my success."

The other woman merely sneered at her. "Right…well, good job. I know it must have been adifficultmission for you, if the time you took to complete it is any indication."

Cassandra purposefully kept her face blank, though she did growl out. "Thank you, Domino. Now if I may be excused, I apparently have some packing to do."

Giovanni nodded her away, encouraging her to attend to the task, but as the assassin turned her back on them, Agent 009 called out again. "So what was it like, killing Mewtwo?"

Cassandra paused, trying to find the correct words to respond with, and found them swiftly enough. "It's always satisfying to be the victor in a difficult run. If the contest is too easy, it bores me."

Suddenly their boss looked up, and gave his goddaughter a searching look. For a fleeting moment, a kernel of fear formed within the depths of her belly: did he suspect something was amiss? No, it seemed not - he had merely remembered a detail which had eluded him earlier. Regaining her attention by calling her name crisply, he tossed her an item from within his desk: it was a full bottle of her pills. "Your doctor said your prescription should be low, so I took the liberty of delivering them to you myself," he said in explanation, before returning his attention to the file before him. "Now go: you have tasks to complete, Agent Winters."

She obeyed her elder and walked from the office with the files tucked firmly under her arm. Once she was well out of sight, the fingers of her left hand reached upwards to softly touch the cross beneath her shirt. With the oddly dense weight of the pill bottle rattling in her pocket, she found passive comfort in cool metal of the crux….

---

Three days later, Giovanni held the handset of his office telephone in a white-knuckled grip which threatened to shatter it in two. Even stronger than his hold was the roar of his voice as he angrily shouted into the receiver, his tone carrying enough venom to make a viper wither. "What do you mean the sample was 'accidently destroyed'?" he snarled, "That organ was invaluable to our – the preservative batch was mixed wrong? Tell whoever was responsible to enjoy their last day breathing: I will be sending one of the internal affairs agents to deal with the incompetent fool shortly!"

Once he had stemmed his following flow of cusses, he leaned back into his chair and questioned stonily: "Was any of the genetic coding mapped before this incident? No - that was the task for today?"

Cursing once more, the crime lord hung up the phone heavily, and glanced over at Domino, who looked as if she had just stuffed a mouthful of sour candy in her mouth. In a low voice, he growled to her: "If Agent Winters report is correct, that was the last of the clone's biological remains – and now some imbecile in the genetics laboratory has botched it beyond our use. No genetic information can be derived from it; apparently, the chemicals in the mix it was submerged in burned through its cell membranes and dissolved the nucleic material. Now, since Dr. Smith's data on Mewtwo's physiology was destroyed along with his facility, and Cassandra apparently burned the rest of the creature's corpse and its lair…we cannot create another. That part of our plan, it seems, is no longer available for us to pursue."

Had this disaster not occurred, they might have perfected methods to insure a willing soldier out of a fresh clone; brainwashing techniques and careful education would have been keys in working such psychological wonders. However, Giovanni's resurrected vision of having a replica of the almost-god Mew at the point his army had been murdered once again. Now the force he was gathering for the coming days would have a different, weaker creature in that position in his shining operation. This undesirable detail made the Team Rocket leader seethe in disappointment, for he had intended this now averted stroke in his plan to mark total dominance over the demon at last. Yet even in death, Mewtwo had somehow gained a semblance of victory and evasion from the man's control….

"Perhaps this isn't such a bad thing," His right hand soldier commented. Seeing his aggravated look, she continued, "Artificial creations are unpredictable – we've learned that extensively in the last few years. If our false deity eventually turned on us, all of our efforts might have been foiled."

Giovanni, understanding her point, was forced to grin bitterly. "You may be right…but theideaof having that creature's power at our command…evenyoumust admit it was a seductive notion!"

Leaning forward he sighed, "Regardless of this failure, we will manage: the GV serum should be more than enough to collapse this nation's pathetic government. Kanto's system - and any system for that matter - may only endure so much strain before buckling under the weight of calamity…especially when its foundation is taken out from underneath it."

Yet both knew they must wait until they had obtained the ideal weapon to bring about such ruin. Close as they were to gaining it, more time was needed before blessed flawlessness was reached…and inevitably, smaller goals were certain to arise in the meantime. Once such prizes came into their sights, it would make lingering on the edge of chaos that much more enticing...and within the next three months, they would discover the existence of a trophy they dared not pass up. In their avariciousness, in their distraction, the country would receive a short reprieve from the war it didn't realize was approaching. But once they had all they wished, Giovanni and his followers would move forward to strike…and though they were still unaware of the matter, the events preceding chaos would begin in the following weeks….

---

Although still ignorant of the intents of her superiors, Cassandra had stumbled upon another set of facts that no less disturbed her. For one matter, it seemed that despite being alive for nearly two decades, the angel owned few personal possessions beyond the tools of her trade. This notion was made exceedingly obvious once the movers had categorized and packed her belongings, with only one box dedicated to miscellaneous items (or objects besides weapons and clothes). Watching the group load the cardboard cubes into the elevator, she frowned at this realization. Though people should not grade the value of their lives based on the objects they owned, objects were markers in a life; and evidently, hers had been quite empty. Further sobering was the understanding that from here matters could not hope to improve drastically. Looking ahead, she recited the basic schedule: her belongings were now being transported to Giovanni's estate, in which she would spend the remaining weeks before the wedding. After that, her possessions would be assimilated with Zachariah's, a mingling which would act as material proof of their union. Irking as those matters might be though, it could not compare to the worry her final realization birthed, which, as the unwelcome guests descended to street level, Cassandra allowed to be displayed across her face. Her indifferent mask slipped away to reveal anxiety close to panic: for she was missing things. She could not know whether the invaders of her vacant home had misplaced or stolen them; regardless, she could not locate her most treasured possessions. The few pictures she had of her late mother, Serena's engagement ring, as well as her violin – none remained. Worse was the sudden absence of her faithful Shadow. The loss of the dark fox, now that she was informed of his true history, created a smarting and bitter wound within her, cut deep by her desperate longing for his companionship. Where was he? Had her little one wandered away, believing her dead or turned traitor when she had not returned home in those initial weeks? Surely that could not be - he was too loyal for such abandonment! No, he must be somewhere nearby! However, no matter how desperately she searched and called for him, her pokémon, her surrogate child, did not appear before her.

Eventually the virtual mourner drifted into her now stripped bathroom, fighting the urge to regurgitate from the intensity of her loneliness and dread. Clearly her dear one had vanished, and without him as an anchor of comfort, her life seemed to be whirling out of control. Before realizing what cycle she was moving automatically into to kill the ache, she found herself clutching her medication bottle in one hand and three pale tablets in the palm of the other. Her eyes already consumed them emptily, her mind on a detached level understanding what they offered her: the repression of emotion and memory, and from their death a sweet lack of physical feeling. All she needed to do to obtain oblivion was swallow the pills…. Lifting her hand, the nauseating sensation of falling into a familiar hole arose, a hole she would be nearly incapable of escaping once she tilted the tablets into her mouth. Yet still she proceeded, and turning on the tap she filled her mouth with water. The pills floated across her tongue, waiting for her to swallow them so they could release their chemical contents into her system….

At this point, she hesitated, suddenly torn. The longer she waited the more likely it was she would gulp the capsules down, her will to do otherwise buried beneath habit. However, resistance was there, like words of protest on the tip of one's tongue, needing only a breath behind them to be spoken. Did she truly wish to suppress her soul again? Did she truly want everything to return to the way it had been before: into an unfeeling void? Cassandra hesitated in the monotonous, yet potent act….

…And then she spat out the tablets into the sink, and purposefully unscrewed the cap of the prescription bottle and poured its contents into the waters of the toilet. As she pressed its lever down firmly, her eyes traced how the capsules whirled down into the porcelain drain until they were entirely flushed away. For a brief moment, upon seeing the last one vanish, her mind panicked: what had she done? Automatic, inexplicable craving for the lost tablets arose potently within her system, but the young woman stood her ground, refusing to move. This was the first time in years that her body was clean of her vice, and she was well aware that the worst of the drug withdrawal had already taken place. Certainly, she would yearn for the opiate for months to come, possibly even for years. Yet presently she was liberated from its chemical hold…and she wanted to remain free. She would not allow herself to take a step backwards, no matter how tempting, and so used this moment to cement her choice. Later she would muse that, despite the pain it had birthed, the time she had spent with Mewtwo had given her something good in return, and would indeed have some positive impact on her life. For now she would not fall prey to the opiate once more; she vowed that to herself as she stood within the gloom.

When she finally wandered from bathroom, she chose to occupy her thoughts with the home she was leaving behind rather than the drug. So many horrible atrocities had occurred within the pale walls around her…yet, also as true, it had been her haven with Mewtwo. She drifted forward, coming to stand where the bed used to be, and recalled in vivid clarity the thrill of the first time she had made love with him. They had been just as uncertain as eager for intimacy that night, neither of them knowing whether they could truly come together as they yearned to…and perhaps that quality of the unknown had helped Cassandra to clasp her beloved to her without a sense of imminent doom curled within her. Instead, in those tentative, initial hours of their newfound relationship, she had allowed the exchange of caresses, the physical expressions of their need for comfort and for one another, and had allowed them to slowly wander down a path they could not possibly step back from. Yet the reasonwhyshe had consented to the union so soon after the attack now perplexed her. In those months after the rape, she had felt as worthless as the dust gathering on her windowsill, valued by no one and despised by herself. Perhaps with that viewpoint it would not have mattered if someone else entered within her body again, inflicting in her the same sensations of pain and violation. What difference would a repetition of the gruesome nightmare have made to her broken being? Yes, Mewtwo had never harmed her in his desire, but she supposed this indifference to further degradation would have been enough for her to allow his closeness. As well, she had to take into account not only the state of her spirit but her mind: her thoughts after the hellish experience had been of a similar chaos – at no point in the time up until her first sexual experience with Mewtwo had she truly been aware of her actions, nor had she cared about what she did: she had merely allowed events to unfold around her.

Yet what if her disinterest and ignorance had not been what had led to their bodily unions? Had it instead been something far sweeter? Out of all those she had known, she had trusted the clone completely, and had cared for him to the depths of her soul. Perhaps in the combination of those two traits she had become devoted to making his sacrifices for her worth something.Thatwould make their acts of intimacy far more meaningful and removed from a mere desire for transient pleasure. Indeed, sex between them had never been for entertainment, enjoyable as it proven. It had instead represented their mutual love and faith in one another. Was that why she had been with him then, despite her fear? Had she been his mate because he'd given her warmth in what had been a meaningless existence, and because he'd been her certainty in a chaotic life? She did not know.The Holy Bible, she understood, declared that they'd committed an unspeakable sin in being together, and that it should be rewarded with death…yet they had not been struck down by God. Yes, their relationshiphadbeen forced to end, but that demise wasn't due to the work of the divine - it had merely been the work of humans. Abruptly, it seemed to Cassandra that her own species was more powerful than a dead or uncaring God…and strangely, instead of feeling lost and alone at that idea, the thought gave her some extent of relief and peace, and expressed to her how she must live: in the present, thinking not of the past or the future.

Yet in the coming days the past was all she thought about, since - to her mind - she no longer possessed a future.

Sitting in one of the sunrooms of Giovanni's estate, the women attending to the bride-to-be fluttered about like excited fairies, darting around her in flashes of dazzling color. The angel remembered none of the faces of those who spoke to her in pleased voices, or who complimented her on her loveliness. For the most part, these other females seemed overflowing with glee and gossip, for it was exceedingly rare that the organization officially held any type of holy event, and being a part of the preparations was something they'd long lusted for. So they happily debated on how to style her hair (deciding to curl it slightly so it brushed her shoulders in waves), over what hues to thread into her white dress, and which formal sandals she should wear. To the assassin, these light-hearted discussions were banal talk, and the only incident in which she grew attentive was when they had suggested removing her "gaudy" choker. Seeing her fierce glare, they'd merely settled on wrapping a royal blue ribbon about her neck (as she had hissed that she hated red). As she fell back into listlessness, she listened to the music playing in the background, completely indifferent to the preparations. Yes, even though she had consented to this, that didn't mean she wanted to go through with it, and making that obvious was her only triumph in the matter.

At some point, one of the songs playing captured her attention, and gently she took one of the woman's wrists and asked its name. Surprised that the young woman had willing broken her silence, the attendant immediately told her its title and artist, and later allowed Cassandra to borrow the CD it was recorded on. Days passed too quickly, and the angel listened to the song repeatedly, musing on its meaning as she allowed her mind to wander into unearthed memory….

Mewtwo lay with her under the covers of her bed, his arms wrapped about her waist and hers about his, and slowly, tenderly, their mouths graced fur and flesh alike. Her pale lover nuzzled her glossy hair as she kissed his throat, her tongue tasting him soundless: he was sweet, like diluted mint tea. As he shifted over her,his fragrance, also of mint and mingled with the clean scent of soap, washed across her skin and left her feeling strangely clean. Their actions this night went no further than simple cuddling; during the day he'd battled for Giovanni, and they never mated after he had done such. Why this was she wasn't certain, and she could only surmise that Mewtwo's mood was not conducive of sex, as warm as his form was as he curled close to her body. Yet although he did not incite in her uncontrollable bliss, her flesh still thrummed with pleasure at his light caresses. Pressing her cheek to his,she sighed into his ear, finding comfort in the understanding that their relationship was not based solely upon their lovemaking. In that hushed moment,she could feel him purring through his thin, velvet fur, and she savored the vibration the low noise made within him.

Eventually he began to rise from her hold, as if intending to fall asleep at her side as usual, but she held onto him firmly. As she shook her head in protest, her mouth brushed at the curve of his primary neck. "No…," she whispered to him, "Stay…please stay like this."

His person was pleasantly heavy over hers, and in this position, his breath, warm and moist, flowed across her face. (I weigh twice as much as you, Cassandra…if I obey your desire, I might smother you as we sleep, and that is not something I wish to do.)

She smiled somewhat as she lifted her face to bestow a gentle kiss upon his muzzle. "You will not. You wouldn't, not even involuntarily." And softly she rested her palm upon his face, and placed a small amount of pressure against his cheek so he would lay his head against her shoulder. As he did, his mouth brushed her neck, his lips able to feel the pulse in her Adam's apple.

(And you call me a fool, my dear.)

At the term of endearment, he felt the body beneath his go rigid, and curious at her respond he lifted his face to stare upon her, his brow furrowed in question. Evidently, he had said something wrong, and brushing her dark bangs from her forehead, he inquired quietly as to what it was. After a moment, Cassandra's eyes refocused onto him, and she murmured haltingly, "Don't…please don't call me 'my dear'…it's the – the term of endearment Giovanni uses for me. Call me something else, anything else, just…not that."

He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. (Of course,) he sighed, understanding. Then, a faint grin spreading on his lips, he pondered aloud, (Hmm…then what shall I call you instead? Would 'my dove' be more acceptable to you, Cassandra?)

His lover blinked up at him, a trace of confusion evident in her gaze. "'My dove'? That's rather random…why…?"

Mewtwo chuckled lowly, the deep rumble echoing in her mind as he settled himself down against her and pressed the side of his face to her collar. (Perhaps someday I will explain it to you. For now, I would prefer to sleep…it has been a long day, dove.)

And so he drifted off listening to the comforting sound her heart beating steadily within her chest. Smiling faintly in her victory, Cassandra pressed her mouth to his ear and soon fell into peaceful dreams with him….

"…So, sis', I hear you're getting hitched - and to Zachariah no less! Isn't that incest, to get with your cousin?"

The angel glanced up from her seat, her eyes widening slightly as she found none of her usual attendants within the sunroom. How long had she been drifting off? Shaking her head to clear it of the fragile memory, she gazed at the speaker, surprise registering on her face as she did: before he stood Silver, Giovanni's disowned son, who she had not seen in several years. After the boy had rebelled against the organization, claiming it to be filled with weaklings and forsaking his position as his father's heir, the stoic leader had refused to allow his bastard, redheaded progeny any stake in an inheritance. However, someone with primogeniture rights had to be named, and as Giovanni had been unable to sire more offspring shortly after Silver's conception, this had left the man in a nasty predicament. In the end, Zachariah - the son of Giovanni's late brother and five years Silver's elder - had become the next in line to perpetuate the Team Rocket criminal empire. As soon as the shifting of power had been established in law, the true heir has vanished, presumably to pursue a career as a pokémon trainer. Cassandra herself, barely acquainted with the boy, hadn't been under the impression that he was even in the country - the last she'd heard, he'd been spotted wandering in the countryside of Jhoto. As of such, his reappearance here was rather shocking, and she doubted he could possibly be staying long: if he was caught on the estate, he'd be thrown out promptly and violently.

Mulling over his statement, she replied, "Incest is having a romantic relationship between two blood-related individuals, and while I will be marrying into your kin, I am certainly not of your family itself, Silver. I am not Giovanni's daughter."

The redhead smirked, his onyx eyes flashing as he teased, "You could fool anyone though, with your looks and that attitude of yours – you quite resemble the tyrannical buzzard. And let's not forget how sweetly he treats you, as if you were his own kid. Honestly, if you didn't have the medical proof, anyone might believe-!"

"Why are you here, Silver?" She snarled, her voice having gained a sudden edge of impatience and displeasure at his inferences.

Her companion fiddled with one of the pokéballs at his belt as he drawled out, "Officially, father ordered me to return to his fiery underworld to have my pokémon vaccinated against a new superbug. I probably would have told him to stick those needles up his rear, but when I heard about your good fortune, I decided I might as well stop by and wish you luck. After all, Zach's not really to your tastes."

Seeing the droll look she bestowed upon him, he spat out in explanation, "Oh, comeon! You're not into pigs, last time I checked!"

The assassin smiled in faint amusement in response. "No, I'm not…I've never enjoyed pork."

He snorted at that, and then stunned her by striding over to her and gathering her into a fleeting embrace. Feeling how she stiffened in his hold, he released her and backed away fleetly, evading the potential gut-punch he might have been about to receive. Stuffing his hands in the deep pockets of his jacket, he glanced as the carpet and said, "In all seriousness though, whatever you chose to do, you have my support, 'Sandra. Though I was a downright ass when I was younger – and still am, to an extent, since some things never change - you gave me support when I went against what father wanted of me. I just thought I would do the same for you in return, that's all."

Her reluctant grin evaporated from her face. "Silver," she murmured firmly, "I am not planning to-."

His black gaze met her silver one. "Aren't you?" He inquired, and then growled out before she could respond, "Cassandra, you have a choice - you may not see it now, but it's there. Maybe someday soon you will take my advice and get out of this organization while you can. Death doesn't have to be your only means of escaping from Team Rocket, you know."

Words she might have uttered died in her throat, and only able to stare at him she noted how he glanced at the door with glinting, coy eyes. "Well, I better head out before someone discovers where I darted off too. Oh, and before I forget: you look pretty hot in that dress, sis'."

She threw one of the pairs of shoes at him as he winked goodbye and darted out the door. Then, as her attendants returned, she lost herself in memory once more, trying not to take to heart the unthinkable words the teenager had voiced….

The hot water hit her naked, sweat-streaked skin, warming it of the chill that had penetrated it after she'd rolled out of the cozy covers of her bed. In about an hour she had to attend an official meeting with the other elite members of Team Rocket, and arriving there smelling of sex was certain to raise questions that were best left unasked. Taking an unused washrag and saturating it with body-wash, she began to rub herself clean, and repressed a shudder as she felt the thin scars that streaked across her intimate parts. Soon passing those areas, she scrubbed her scalp with shampoo and folded one wing at a time before her, feeling the water trickling across her feathers. Her soapy hands preened them carefully, and over the roar of the pounding rinse and the quiet hiss of steam, she did not hear the shower curtain open and close. Yet soon she was aware of her beloved's presence as he stepped behind her and wrapped his tail and arms around her, his fur growing damp from the liquid surging from the faucet above them. He was attentive to press himself between her wings, having no desire to accidently place pressure on and crush the fragile extremities. Standing together in the spray, they swayed wordlessly, and Cassandra bit back a whimper as Mewtwo took over the cleansing of her sensitive wings. He was gentle with them, very much aware of how easily her pinions and feathers could break and the resulting pain that would cause her. Yet though difficult to manage with his round fingertips, he preened away the bits of sullied material that clung to the ebony shafts. In a manner, he was far more thorough than she herself was in the task, for he could reach the entirety of those limbs without , when his paws began to stray elsewhere, she turned around to face him and shook her head.

"Not right now, Mewtwo…I have to go soon."

Yet even as she declared that, she checked the clock to see how much longer she had left. Upon noting the exact time, she figured she could do one small thing for him: she could cleanse him in return for his gesture. The clone closed his eyes as she rubbed shampoo into his pelt, and sneezed as he accidently breathed some of the suds up his nostrils. His mate laughed at the sound of it, and continued to scrub lower and lower along his form…. In the end, the process not only wound up using all the warm water, but also resulted in her having no time to eat breakfast as she'd intended. Cassandra had only a few minutes to dry herself, throw on formal clothes, and dart to the meeting. Ultimately, she was late arriving to the gathering, but thankfully, her colleagues dismissed her untimely arrival due to sleeping in, and not the consequence of pampering the creature still in her shower.

As for that feline himself, he remained chuckling at his mate's vows of vengeance for causing her delay - he had no fear of her wrath…!

In the preparation room of the chapel, the angel stood before the full-body mirror, taking in the sight of the wedding dress adorning her. A simple, snowy white garment, it possessed no ruffles or lace, and used a single tie around the neck to hold the front to her. Its silky material hugged her form lightly, and was run through with ribbons of blue and strands of pearls to add beauty to the otherwise plain fabric. Finally, the misty veil over her face obscured her vision slightly, but she cared little about this hindrance: she did not care to see the details of this day, for it was not the happiest one of her life as it should be - this was merely another act of duty. Her wedding was nothing more than an elaborate façade, one throw to conceal the degradation she was facing; for soon she would become something less than a respected agent of Team Rocket. She would be made into a toy…although perhaps she had always been a plaything, one manipulated into being a machine of massacre. However, if what she did presently could somehow keep Mewtwo safe, she could accept being forged into a mere object, and could endure being treated as such until her death. Certainly, the concept left a revolting taste on her tongue, but she would commit herself to this regardless. Afterwards she would move forward…though along what path was not something she knew in such certainty.

Although she must admit, she was surprised at how simple this ordeal was, despite how much influence it was to have on her future. She supposed that in following orders as she was, there resulted a calm sense of purpose. Under the commands of others, she could live her life without questioning anything, for her world then became a simpler one of black and white, which held no room for the grey emotion of doubt. She would never need to struggle with herself at night for a decision made wrong, as obedience freed her from that burden. For many years, she had lived in this manner, as a detached being run by her thoughts and not her heart. Indeed, if she had ever dared stepped out of such behavior, her being would have tore itself apart with uncertainly and screamed for its existence to end. Unable to allow this to occur, she had chosen to become a refined weapon, and had lost her ability to weep in the process…but then Mewtwo had entered her life and inverted the colors of her universe. He, only half a man, had given her humanity back to her, and in doing so had blessed her with the ability to shed tears again. As she thought of him, she wondered who might do the same for him now that he was free of eternal night….

Once the final preparations were completed, and as she was coached on the proceedings of the ceremony, the parallels in their lives struck her. She mused to herself that it was almost humorous how alike Mewtwo's life and hers had been for a short span of time. For one thing, neither of them had known a great deal of parental guidance or possessed a full childhood. Also, they had both taken lives at a young age, and had both become members of Team Rocket shortly after committing the unforgivable sin. Yet at that point, the independent likenesses began to fade. Unlike Cassandra, Mewtwo had rebelled against the organization to gain his freedom, had torn himself from it to obtain the roles of a pacifist and defender. The young woman, on the other hand, had remained the same person she had been for nine years: a poisonous moth, attracted to the glow of a flame, but instinctively knowing it would be her doom if she tried to pursue the flickering, golden light.

And so the angel sunk further into crimson darkness, unresisting as others began to chain her to the black….

"Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have been…"

When she next regained true awareness, she found her attendants gone, and heard the church organ playing out in the traditional tune of the wedding march. Giovanni stood in the doorway before her, and beyond him she saw people with unfamiliar faces standing, all waiting for her to begin to step down the aisle. With a soundless sigh, she made the first slow motions forward, the train of her dress trailing behind her, and without a word she offered her arm to her godfather. The Italian man seemed strangely pleased, almost happy in fact, as if this truly were more than a polite way of making her into his nephew's whore. Perhaps the crime lord actually viewed her as he might a true daughter, and this ceremony as the culmination of his dreams for her. Yet though she plastered on a false smile as she gazed forward, she felt her heart squeeze tightly with bitterness: for what aboutherdreams, her hopes? What about her few, miniscule wishes…?

"Well, nothing hurts and nothing bleeds
When covers tucked in tight
Funny when the bottom drops
How she forgets to fight...to fight…"

As she halted before her groom, she comforted herself with the notion that she and her dearest had tried…yes, they hadfailed, but they hadtriednonetheless. When the priest began to speak, his voice low and purposeful, and the audience retook their seats, the angel stared into Zachariah's unremarkable face with a vague sense of de-ja-vu, and wistfulness curled in her chest as a golden memory arose in her mind's eye, blinding her to reality. For Mewtwo and she had once yearned with all their hearts to share a binding akin to matrimony, even though such a wonder was - like every other treasure couples might be provided, and they denied - sadly impossible for them to obtain….

Her partner woke her as the first of dawn's pale rays were dashed upon the eastern horizon, as he nuzzled at her face, her chest, even nipping at her gently in his desire for her to rise to consciousness. At first his dove steadfastly refused him, her body too wearied from her recent mission to yearn for anything but sleep in their shared day off…but perhaps because of their rare free hours, Mewtwo was insistent. He murmured to her in a teasing tone that he had a surprise for her, and if she did stir to greet the day soon, he would withhold it from her for another week. Cassandra sorely attempted to disappoint him, but the clone was too stubborn of creature to let her do so: first he stole away her warm covers, and after she determinedly curled herself into fetal position with one of the pillows, he gathered her into his arms and proceeded to carry her into the bathroom. He blatantly and cheerfully ignored how she hissed at him that he'd better not do what she thought he was planning on, and swiftly turned on the cold water and stepped into the icy spray with her held captive in his arms. She shrieked in the shock of the chill and thrashed into his hold, cursing at him to release her, and once he had, she turned around and smacked at him with her palms. But this abuse lasted no longer than a few moments; abruptly, she spun back around and turned the water onto warm. As he stepped out, chuckling to himself, she shouted that whatever his surprise was had better be worth him being neutered over. Mewtwo only smiled at her mock threat, and remained silently amused as she grumbled and glared at him throughout breakfast. Shadow, their little one, merely munched on cooked tuna at their feet and smirked up at his mistress occasionally – the kit, it seemed, knew precisely what was going on. At one point, he hopped on the camera Mewtwo had purchased with his considerable salary, photographing a shot of their brushing feet. In a few hours time he would snap far better ones of the pair.

Afterward eating, the couple wandered out into the private gardens of the base, each savoring the sunshine and the autumn air, which became rife with shimmering gold whenever the wind lifted colored leaves into the fray. Concealed in a hooded cloak, Mewtwo remained a few strides behind his mate, both of them wordless as they stepped down along the concrete paths, over trickling manmade streams and onto crisp, dry grass. They drifted under the shade cast by fiery maples, oaks, elms, cherry trees, and even a couple naked, silver birches. Eventually, the clone led Cassandra away from the public pathways and into a small groove of willows. Hidden almost entirely among the drooping boughs of the largest one, with yellow leaves and rays of sunlight raining softly down around them, Mewtwo took the female's hands in his paws and cradled her mouth to his gently. Knowing they could not be seen in this place, the angel accepted his tender kiss, and wondered at what he was up to. When the male finally pulled away, he seemed, to her surprise, almost nervous in how he regarded her. His violet tail twitched minutely behind him, betraying his sudden anxiety. (Cassandra,) he began, (I have been meaning to propose something to you for the past few weeks, but given our…schedules…this is the first formal opportunity I have had to speak with you on the matter. I brought you here for a specific reason, and I would appreciate it if you would listen to the whole of my speech before denying my offer, do you understand?)

Her curiosity aroused, Cassandra nodded her agreement. Pleased, her partner slowly too from the pocket of his cloak a small box of black velvet. His mate's silver eyes widened as her mind filled with the connotations of the sight, and forgetting her promise she opened her mouth to say something - but the expression etched onto Mewtwo's face made her snap her jaw shut. Her being quavering slightly, she watched as he telekinetically opened the jewelry box: it held a pair of identical, inscribed, platinum rings, one of which was the decorative piece of a chain necklace. Gazing into her face, he stated, (Your kind, I have learned, exchange rings such as these as a mutual display of lifelong commitment to one another. The pieces are supposed to be a precedent to a holy ceremony in which the couple is bound together by law, yet…you and I, being what we are, could never hope to be married. Even if those around us could possibly accept us, no priest could condone the union of a human and an "animal." Also, another form of binding exists that we cannot provide each other: we cannot conceive children, Cassandra. You and I can mate as lovingly as we wish and still never form new life between us to raise and cherish. Shadow is as close as we can ever come to having a family - we both know that well enough.)

After all, although they had never used any contraceptives, Cassandra had bled from her monthly menstruation only two weeks prior, confirming that no offspring could come from their physical unions. If an infant had formed, she would undoubtedly have missed that part of her cycle; yet it continued, as it surely always would, and so Cassandra nodded and allowed him speak on. (Despite these facts, I wish for you as my mate in all the years to come…these rings would symbolize that desire, provided it is mutual want, for a circle signifies eternity, as it has no point of end,) he said, the fingers of one of his paws intertwining with hers, warm and certain. (It is not even as if our own vows would be unique to us either; after all, those of other 'illicit' bonds share this gesture as well. Regard it merely as a promise, dove…one which, if you accept it, will keep me at your side for the remainder of our lives, however long we may have.)

The dark girl's throat constricted painfully, and she felt herself shaking slightly as she wondered over what he had declared: he was serious in this proposition, and each word he uttered to outline it intense in feeling. A tentative response formed upon her tongue, but Mewtwo quieted her with a slow shake of his head, for he was not yet finished in his speech. (Furthermore, once you are a legal adult and Giovanni no longer has a claim on you, I will take you from here. We shall make a haven of our own somewhere in which to spend our days - a true home where we belong, and where he will not find us,) he murmured, and his eyes seemed to soften minutely with sadness as he confided, (I am not blind to how you hate the current life you live…so I wish to provide you fresh and better one. Regardless if you decline the rest of my offer, I will help you regain your freedom when the time comes - that much is independent of your acceptance, so do not allow the notion to sway your decision. On that matter, if you need to take time to consider-.)

Yet Cassandra needed no such thing - she shook her head fleetly and leaned upwards to kiss her mate soundly on the mouth, the touch tender and sweet and passionate. Like golden rain - the tears of rejoicing angels – willow leaves fell upon the pair, the flakes of pyrite catching in the folds of the male's cloak and in the yet damp, black strands of the female's hair. When the latter parted from her dearest, she breathed out, "I don't need any time – I accept…and I'll do anything I can to make it work. I can wait a year, Mewtwo…just as long as you're with me, I-."

He peered at her, his gaze heavy with lingering doubt, his paw stroking through her hair and brushing from it the fallen leaves. (Have you thought it through, though?) He asked, and reminded her, (If you agree, you will never have children of your own, and you cannot-.)

She brushed her fingertips over his muzzle, silencing him, and smiled, the sunlight casting a fire into her eyes. "Each love is different, Mewtwo," she stated, "Ours will just be without children, and honorable regardless of whether it's official or not. It is still ours, and that's all I need, so yes – you are mine, kitty, always."

In response, her partner's mouth curled into a genuinely happy smile, and gently took her left hand, placing the ring he had forged for her onto her slender ring finger. It fit well, as he had known it would, hugging her coffee-and-cream flesh in a cool embrace, the unyielding metal of it smooth and gleaming under the sun. His joy contagious, Cassandra laughed of it and took the necklace from the velvet box, undoing the clasp and redoing it once the chain was wrapped about his primary neck. As she wrapped her arms over the clone's shoulders, she mused that once he had his armor on, no soul besides her would know he wore it – it would be concealed and protected from prying eyes. As well, who would ever realize that her new piece of jewelry was proof that she had accepted an unlikely proposal, his proposal? Oh, everyone else would remain ignorant but their Shadow. This would be another of their secrets, their greatest one, for it promised an end to remaining trapped in the dark…. And as they gazed upon one another warmly, Mewtwo embraced his dove close to his heart and teleported them to their favorite place in the world, their spot upon the crown of the cliff which overlooked the Viridian Forest, and there they celebrated their vows, bearing hope within them for once in their shadow-filled lives….

"…And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise…"

Returning to the present, long removed from that golden memory, she remembered the bitter, sobering truth: Mewtwo had never returned for her, and now as she spoke vows to a man she barely knew, he did not come either. Her beloved had broken his promise, had discarded his hallowed oath, and did not even appear to possess the decency of arriving to object to the wrongful union that she was being made a part of. However, even as the final, binding words were uttered, the betrayed female found she could not hate or loath the clone for his decision…because as long as he had a chance to wander under the sun once more, she would possess some small victory against the injustices that were being committed against her….

"…As darkness quickly steals the light
That shined within her eyes
She slowly swallows all her fear
And soothes her mind with lies…"

"I do," she said, and felt a vast weight settle upon the shoulders of her soul, cancerous to her spirit…yet she found she could bear the burden and resist the sickness it sought to infect her with, for it was weightless and impotent compared to others she had been forced to carry across her back.

Then - nailing her to the position as wife, as one might hands to dogwood - so too did Zachariah say the words. From there the priest concluded the ceremony, erected the holy crux of matrimony, and with the man's consent, Cassandra's husband leaned forward and kissed her mouth. The young woman accepted the touch warily, and involuntarily tasted him: unlike Mewtwo, the flavor of the man's lips was butterscotch sweet…too sweet, really, for her liking. She also noted that his fragrance was of freshly brewed coffee, which she supposed was befitting of his mocha skin and his dark cinnamon hair. His irises, it seemed, were also of a warm hue, resembling deep amber or topaz – they were the exact opposite hue as Mewtwo's eyes. Aversion rose strongly within her at that realization, and surprisingly he seemed to sense this and pulled away, forcing nothing more in this moment: he was already triumphant. Later, once the party was over, he would surely reap the rewards of this win, but for now he left her alone, never pressing the whole of her to himself, and never allowing his hands to stray across her person. This restraint was far more than she had expected of him, but she knew better than to fool herself into believing such respectful treatment would last long: from what little she knew of Giovanni's nephew, it was not of his character. Fighting agitation, the angel drifted through the following celebration, signing official papers, taking sips of punch, and nibbling on the exotic snacks being passed around. Wherever she strayed she was met with congratulations, and Giovanni seemed especially lively, to the point of teasing her over her stubbornness and thanking her for giving in. Trying not to allow her discontent and repulsion show at this unnerving display, she had merely chuckled and stated she was planning to retire to her new quarters soon for sleep. She wanted no more part of this event, and so she quitted it as soon as she was able to make her escape, and within minutes lay down in the bedroom. For a short while, feeling the moon's rays upon her skin, she drifted off, comforted with the idea that somewhere out there Mewtwo rested under the moonlight too, safe forever from his past.

"…Well, all she wants and all she needs
Are reasons to survive
A day in which the sun will take
Her artificial light...her light…"

Around midnight, Cassandra became aware of someone sitting on the other side of the bed she lay upon, and felt a hand rest on her shoulder. She stiffened immediately at the uninvited touch and pulled away from Zachariah's hold, and asked him in a quiet, weary voice for him to leave her alone. For a few minutes, he did not speak a single word, nor did he depart, until finally he stated in a smooth, tenor voice, "You're sad, aren't you? Why is that? I thought this was supposed to be the day every girl looks forward to since they learned what a wedding was."

"Not all of us," Cassandra replied, "and it's a mistake to associate me with a normal woman."

The angel felt his fingers running through her hair, coming to trace the wires of her choker. "Yes, that's right…and you know, I would very much like to see those wings of yours sometime, but I'll wait until you're ready for that. For now I'll just content myself with other things."

Her husband leaned down and kissed her cheek softly – but abruptly, despite the gentleness of the touch, Cassandra felt fear bolt through her stomach, cold and nauseating. Who was this man to bestow a kiss upon her without her consent? Forcefully she tore away from him and sat up, glaring through the gloom at him. "Absolutely not, Zachariah; just because we're married doesn't mean there will be a wedding night. If you desperately needthatform of entertainment, go stalk one of the bridesmaids or pleasure yourself – I am not going to take a part in it."

Zachariah frowned faintly in the dull light, his tender exterior replaced with annoyance. "Excuse me, Cassandra? You're my wife – you must-."

She gritted her teeth and stood, walking away from the man. "No, I don't," she said, and added, "If you want the bed, though, you can have it; I'll sleep on one of the sofas."

"And it's one more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alright...alright…"

Yet before she made it to the doorway, she felt firm, strong fingers wrap about her wrist, and was tugged back towards the one they belonged to. The momentum of the sudden jerk spun her around to face him, and having lost his gentlemanly façade, Zachariah growled lowly, "You're upset, I understand – my uncle scarcely left you a choice in this, but the least you can do is attempt to make the best of your situation. You are obviously hurting, somehow…but I can make you feel better, I assure you. Though first, I have to admit, I'm rather curious about something."

Her eyes narrowed as she felt his other hand slip up across her collar, take the chain she wore, and pull the bejeweled cross out from beneath the front of her dress. "Tell me," he inquired, "what is this trinket? It's of very nice quality – who gave you-?"

Searing anger rolled through her, and forcefully she took the necklace from his grasp and backed away, snarling out, "Thatismine- don't you dare touch it!"

She never wanted his filthy hands to grace Mewtwo's gift to her ever again…!

As if to sooth her, his fingers brushed down her face, and then the man grabbed her arm again, hard enough to darken her tan skin with purplish bruises. "My, you have quite the temper…do calm down, wife. It was an innocent question, that was all…but if you don't want to talk to me civilly, that's just fine. I do have numerous alternatives, after all, and there's no earthly reason why you can't enjoy doing them with me." And before she could pull free once more and spit out a 'no,' Zachariah dragged his bride against him and smothered her mouth with his.

Now, Zachariah was a handful of years older than Cassandra was, and most certainly physically stronger, since he lifted weights for numerous hours each week to hone his muscles. As of such, although the young woman he crushed to his frame tried to thrash from his grip, he held her to him firmly, if awkwardly. Eventually she managed to tear her mouth away from his to breathe, and when she did she cursed him violently, but soon her words were stifled by yet another fierce kiss. Not even Mewtwo in his most lust-ridden state could compare to the animal hunger in this now uncivilized creature, who was nothing like the clone in the covetous manner in which his hands roamed over her form, undoing the single tie and zipper of her wedding dress and tugging the top down to her waist to expose her upper body. By this point Cassandra trembled with revulsion – how dare he…? Infuriated the assassin tried to knee him between the legs, but the man was prepared for such tactics and caught her leg before she could inflict any damage. He then stroked at her smooth skin, inching his hand between her thighs, making her shake noticeably with rage and, now that the rest of her clothing was being torn from her, with fear too. She did not know when he forced her onto the bed, and in her panic at his relentless approach and at how he ignored her shouts for him to stop, she was unable to fight back. As his fingers simultaneously tugged at her panties and undid his belt, as he removed much of his own clothing and forced her beneath him, Cassandra froze.

In that sickening moment, the entirety of her being - her body, her mind, her soul - all regressed back into the hellish memory of how her late teacher had violated and abused her, for in Zachariah there was so much of that same monster. They were both devils wearing human skin; both unimaginably cruel; both boorish and suffocating. At some point, the exposed young woman felt her husband's erection brush against the inside of her leg, and she flinched visibly at the thought of imminent penetration, hearing her voice shrieking for the nightmare to stop.

"…Don't pretend to hold it in, just let it out
Don't pretend to hold it in, just push it out
Don't you try to hold it in, just let it out and
Don't you try to hold it in, you hold it in…."

Yet then events shifted from the pattern of repetition: for Cassandra was not the same girl she had been the first time she had been threatened in this way. She was utterly sober, experienced now in the art of self-defense, and held more than enough willpower to deny the male above her what she refused to give him willingly. Breaking herself free from her terror, she curled her knees between them and shoved her legs forward sharply, sinking her heels into Zachariah's pelvis. Seeing surprise register on his need-contorted face, she punched upwards into his stomach and struck his shoulder with her other hand to flip him off her. Freed of his weight, she staggered to her feet, and when the man tried to rise, she kicked his skull brutally, hoping to knock him unconscious with the blow. She failed in that respect; enraged and sexually frustrated, her husband rose to his feet and charged her, his fist slugging her in the face and the studded ring he wore opening up her lower lip. Yet though tasting her own blood, the assassin ignored the pain; this man was clumsy, she could-.

He knocked her to the ground and sprang over her, this time forcing her knees open, as if he believed that forcing himself within her would result in her submission. However, Cassandra intercepted him before he managed to do so, and grasping his private tightly and twisting him, she snarled at his yelp of pain, "What? I thought this was what you wanted, you perverted asshole!"

Once more she kicked him away, and then upon rising became the dominant aggressor in their struggle, for she did not intend to leave him capable of attacking her again. The feared assassin of Team Rocket pinpointed the male's weak spots, thrusting her palms and heels brutally into his yielding flesh. Whether she was intending to merely incapacitate him or kill him became obscure as her hands and feet became smeared with blood, but as she struck down on him she felt strength and confidence, not guilt, flood her as she established a glorious certainty within her soul: the crime the pummeled creature beneath her feet had attempted to commit would never again be done to her. She could fight against such invasive advances successfully, could avert defilation…no longer did anyone possess the power to force her to surrender herself to their lusts. This wasHERbody, notTHEIRSto do with what they desired, andsheandonlyshe would decide whom she would give it to!

And she most certainly wouldnotconsent to sharing herself with a disrespectful pig who thought the law gave him the right to rape her! As she struck the final blow, thrusting her hand forward to break his nose, she gasped for breath and hissed out vehemently: "I…said…NO! You willNOTcome inside of me…unless I say you can!"

With that declaration, finally, after three long, agonizing years, Cassandra felt the memory of being raped and the terror it had invoked in her fall silent – the nightmare she had endured, worse than any the mind could conceive, would no longer haunt her. Like the stilling Zachariah, it was where it belonged: behind her, beneath her, and no longer in her way of pursing a future with whomever she might choose to have by her side….

"…One more day in paradise
One more day in paradise
It's one more day in paradise
One last chance to feel alright…"

Only after her world had timidly returned to one of hushed calm, only after she had clothed herself in her undergarments and wedding dress (which was nastily torn), did Cassandra find that, although she had eliminated the threat to her person, a whole other set of problems had taken its place. Firstly, her husband, she suddenly noticed, was no longer breathing. Upon crouching down to check his neck for a pulse and finding none, she realized that the blow meant merely to crush his nose had backfired: she had accidently shoved the bone of it into his skull and pierced his brain. The assassin smirked wryly even as she cursed, for in her mind Zachariah was not supposed to have possessed a cerebrum large enough to be damaged in that manner. How wonderful: she had killed Giovanni's heir! She had not been married even half a day and already she was a widow; she should callGuinnessto see if she won anything!

Then, of course, there came along the second problem: his deep voice rose from the background, the speaker having arrived just in time to witness the end of the struggle and its consequence. (Well,thatis one way to escape an unwanted marriage,) he commented, (although I do think the swine would have preferred an annulment.)

The angel bolted to her feet and spun around to face the source of the remark. Mewtwo, wrapped up in his traveling cloak, stood before the balcony doors, the filmy curtains waving behind him now that the glass barriers were eased open.

"…Once upon a year gone by
She saw herself give in
Every time she closed her eyes
She saw what could have been."

For a handful of seconds, the bloodied angel stared at him, her jaw unhinged and her being stunned at his sudden appearance. Yet after that short moment, the surprise wore off, and every positive trait she had bestowed upon him in her memories went "poof!" As fury at his breaking their agreement to stay out of one another's lives rose in her mind, so too did all her memories of his annoying, negative qualities. Beginning to rant as she stomped over to him, she struck his bony chest with the flat of her fist, smearing his fur with crimson. "You- what theFUCKare you doing here, Mewtwo? I thought we agreed that you wouldn't – oh, youMORON! You aresupposedto be an intelligent person, but no, you're an idiot with an obvious death wish! Finally let that depression get the best of you, eh? Well I don't-."

The clone laughed at her remarks, reminding her of how disrespectful he could sometimes be. As his eyes swept over her, taking in the sight of her torn dress, his gaze seemed to warm with blended appreciation and humor, as if amused and savoring the idea of her as a bride in the same instance. However, her outfit was not what he commented upon: (And here I thought to remove you from that man and earn your gratitude…but clearly, you can handle your own predicaments. I should not have doubted such.)

"Well no shit, genius! You arenotthe only one who can fight, damn it – but that's beside the point. What are you doing he-?"

Mewtwo's gaze flickered away from her, and slowly he smirked in private humor before he stated, (I am afraid the noise of your struggle with the boor attracted the guards' attention; they will be breaking down the door in about fifty seconds. Your current shouting is not alleviating their concern, at any rate.)

The young woman's silver eyes widened and she spat out another vulgar curse. She grabbed his arms and tried to steer him onto the balcony, hissing: "Well hide - in the capital, in the forest, anywhere, just go! They can't find you here; they all believe I murdered you! Christ, Mewtwo, if they discover you, our plan will be ruined-!"

(I know,) he murmured, the words making his companion still. Her head turned so she could gaze fully upon his face, which was set in a grim expression as he regarded her horror solemnly. Then, his tail wrapping around her comfortingly, he explained, (That is my intention. What I came here to do makes the failure of our previous aims unavoidable.)

His dove first blinked at him before shoving his away, and growled out, "Well I won't allow you to make a suicide run! I refuse to be so cocky and melodramatic and-."

Yet Cassandra never was able to finish the sentence: in that moment the bedroom door was forced open, the lock shattered by the sheer force thrown against it, and the half a dozen guards who were stationed in the wing filed into the bedroom, their guns raised. Cassandra met their calculating eyes, and saw as she glanced about the room what they must see: Zachariah had been beaten to death; her own body was bloody, and her dress nearly falling from her form; and Mewtwo stood above it all with her in his grasp. She glanced at him, the rabid intruder in their eyes, and then sprang from his hold to charge the six. She smacked down the barrel of the weapon from the first's hand, fire flaring across her palm, and then wielded a swift uppercut into him to knock the would-be-protector unconscious. Dodging the instinctive punch throw by number two, the assassin dropped and swung a leg to knock his feet out from under him. Although the soldier caught himself, his wrist twisted beneath his weight, sprained at hitting the carpeted floor at such an awkward angle. She quickly knocked his lights out with a lightning blow to his head, and bolted up to barrel into the stomach of the third man, ultimately knocking him hard into the nearby wall. His breath knocked out of him, he wrapped his arms around her in a crushing, bear-like hold, and was rewarded for the action by being bashed in the face by the tail of an agitated, defensive clone. Cassandra tore herself free in time to watch Mewtwo throw a burning Shadow Ball into the gut of the fourth and take hold of the remaining two with his telekinesis. He proceeded to throw the men into the steel railing of the balcony, upon which they crumpled with twin groans. The group taken care of, the fighter glanced at her and said, (More are coming. Shall we continue to fight, woman?)

Before she could answer him a dozen more Team Rocket thugs filed into the room, their gazes staggering on the unconscious forms of their fallen comrades. Spying that the safeties of their guns were off, Cassandra leapt back from the pokémon, pleading for him to flee with her eyes. Yet Mewtwo merely shook his head minutely, and as if from a distance the pair heard one of the uniformed men radio to their superiors the situation they had encountered: the heir of the Team Rocket empire had been murdered; his widow, coated in the male's blood, was quite possibly his dispatcher; their fellows had taken a fairly brutal beating; and among the scene stood a strange pokémon which may or may not prove curious to Giovanni. Of course, the clone was very much in the crime leader's interest: when he arrived, with the ever-faithful Domino by his side, for a moment his expression contorted into a rare display of surprise…which then shifted into a mixture of rage and carefully concealed pleasure. His eyes burning like black coals, he glared at his shuddering niece-in-law, ordering his inferiors to escort her to a holding cell for the time being. His goddaughter went without a word of protest, and Mewtwo made no motion to hinder the process: Giovanni, he knew, would not harm her, at least not before "official" judgment had been passed. And as her intended target was here, she might be offered a chance to redeem herself – only if she declined the opportunity must he worry.

As for the psychic himself, he consented to being captured. He would not allow the fiends of Team Rocket to take any part of him for their gains, not a single hair or drop of blood, but he could be held by them until he had made his offer to Cassandra and she had made her choice. If she declined, he could escape this place as he had once had...although, if she deemed to choose that path, he doubted he would have the will to leave, for Psyche's words had affected him more than the lilac vixen had known. Her speech had blessed him with clarity which had previously been obscured by doubt and misguided duty. Indeed, he knew what he was here to do, and when the time arrived he would execute one of two plans…and it was up to the assassin which one he took….

His captors led him into the packed-dirt arena of the Gym he had fought within during his youth. Returning to its confines aroused in his mind memories he would rather have remained repressed, and musing upon them he growled aloud, the animalistic noise making the humans surrounding him edge away from him, as if he were a disease-ridden wolf. Those with more bravery wrapped him in chains and shackles, the irons encompassing his wrists, ankles, tail, and neck in heavy bands. The dense metal and the currents running through it were reminiscent of the armor he had once shrugged on, for it drenched its captive in power-suppressing fields. Yet these bindings where comparable to bracelets to the clone, for they had not been designed to hold at bay a pokémon of his strength – his muscles alone could rip through them as if they were braided straw. Regardless, he slacked his body as if they effectively sapped his psychical energies from him, and dropped his head in mock weariness. For now he would remain here, waiting for his dove to return to the sight of their first encounter - he knew she would arrive before him in due time.

She always had.

---

Dr. Kitadake and his superior stood upon the balcony overlooking the battling grounds of the Gym, both of their gazes lingering upon the creature who, up until an hour prior, they had both believed had perished. Casting a glance at Giovanni, the scientist repressed the urge to flinch back at the intensity of the Team Rocket leader's stare, for his dark eyes scorched with loathing and calculation as he stared down at the creation, and in almost a nervous tick, he tapped a thick, hard finger to the steel rail, his teeth grinding audibly. Obviously, the monster had faked its gory death, and Cassandra had played a part in act of deception. Had the matter of its murder not been so integral to his plans, her guardian might have been perversely pleased with the young woman's gall and cunning nature: he had yearned for her to adopt some of his prized attributes. However, he found no pleasure in the continued existence of the psychic, and the implications of its survival did not suit his tastes at all. Did his goddaughter, he wondered, remember what the pokémon had meant to her? Or had his treasured agent another motive behind allowing the feline to live? He admitted to himself that after discovering what Mewtwo had done to its lover years prior, he had sighed in relief; for no longer did her feelings for the animal and the threat of a scandal risk compromising the integrity of his assassin. She could not pursue a being she did not know existed, and her godfather in the end had felt almost grateful to the replica. Not only had the abominable relationship been taken care of more flawlessly than he could have hoped, but he no longer needed to carry through with the threat of ridding his organization of the priceless creation. It seemed that all had worked out for the best, and the proof of the debacle was soon edited from the clone's profile, as if it had never occurred….

Giovanni acknowledged that he had made a dangerous gamble when selecting Cassandra to exterminate Mewtwo – he had comprehended the risks at the time. There was no way of knowing what could unearth her buried memories; even now he still was uncertain the extent of her remembrance, though he had questioned her on the matter in the past hour. Regardless, he needed to remove the power Mewtwo represented from the metaphorical chessboard - he could not afford to allow the rouge piece to fall into enemy hands or move against him on its own, nor could he allow the white knight to take his black queen. True, the rulebook stated that for disobeying his orders, Cassandra should be removed from the game anyhow; if she was not, it would suggest to the rest of his pieces that he was willing to harbor a potential traitor on his side. However, Cassandra was, although he could barely admit it to himself, far more than a simple piece for him to manipulate. After all, she was the one he wished to continue his work…and now that Zachariah had been tossed from the playing field, albeit more swiftly than he had planned, she could achieve the title of heir without hindrance. Who else was more befitting for the task than she was? As his ward, as the child he had trained since she was five, she would be the ideal creature to succeed him! Yet now Mewtwo threatened to destroy her to Giovanni's cause, threatened to steal her from his side - and that notion the leader could not endure!

The man could think of only one certain way that would both cement Cassandra to his organization and rid them of the problem that was Mewtwo: bring her here into the arena, provide her a loaded gun, and order her to shoot the clone. If she did not…well, if that ultimately was the case, he would have no choice but to eliminate her as well, for he would prefer her dead than taken by a the feline monstrosity. Trulythatwas the sole form of relationship Giovanni could grasp: one of the controller and the controlled. The crime lord could obtain satisfaction, warmth, and even joy from those who followed him loyally…but if they strayed and broke free from his grasp, those emotions turned black, ugly, and cold. If individuals were of no use to him, if they would not serve him solely, than his tolerance for them was nonexistent; he lived by the adage that if someone was not with him, than he or she was against him. As of such, he would destroy those who did not bend to his will, no matter who they were…even if the one struggling for liberation was someone he considered a daughter. Although it might wound him to lose her, he would not make an exception for her in his dark heart.

He never would….

"Do you think those chains will hold it?" He spoke suddenly, his inquiry directed at the doctor beside him.

pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. "No," he stated with certainty, "Presently it's faking being restrained; it seems to be biding its time, waiting for something."

To Kanto's top crime lord, this was translated as:Mewtwo is waiting forher.

Nodding his agreement with the observation, Giovanni took from his burnt orange suit his cell phone, and dialed the number to the interrogation facility's main office. When the head of the faction answered, the Gym Leader said, "This is your Signore, Mister Amundsen. I would appreciate it if you release Agent Winters after informing your subordinates, loudly, of the whereabouts of the pokémon who invaded my estate. Do leave out a loaded gun if you would be so kind. Then, once she had departed, gather as many of your available men as you can, arm them adequately, and come to the Gym. Wait there until you receive further orders."

As he hung up, the scientist regarded him grimy and asked, "What do you intend to do, sir?"

Giovanni looked not at his inferior, but down at the shackled replica, as he declared, "I intend to discover where Cassandra Bracken's loyalties rest. Regardless of her choice, however, once we are finished with this matter, you are free to do as you please with the clone's corpse, provided I am given what I desire."

"Of course," the other man replied as he too looked out upon the arena - he would not leave until this showdown was complete. No matter how it ended, he understood that this evening would reverberate through the ranks of their organization, for it would mark a single, integral point:

They had reached the beginning of perdition.

---

As ordered, the interrogators soon released the potential traitor and blinded themselves to how she tucked the discarded weapon beneath crossed arms. Running through the hallways of the base away from the facility, the agent ducked into random turns and backtracked, her movement made to ensure that no one followed her; but that no one was only bolstered her suspicion, and she mused at the irony of feeling threatened by people who were, for lack of a better term, her family, and these structures their home. All the same, she felt as though she were teetering on the brink of chaos as she raced through the buildings and tried to avoid encounters with other beings. When she did race past the living, she received a fair number of odd looks due to her outfit, the conspicuousness of it something she planned to remedy promptly. Dashing into the estate of her godfather, she repressed her feelings of awkwardness at being in the home of a man who knew she had disobeyed him. Still, as blessedly alone as she was, she encountered no difficulties when she headed into her own temporary quarters and ransacked her belongings for a change of clothes. To her, this process felt as if it bore a sense of finality. She fleetly threw on fresh undergarments, a pair of sturdy jeans, warm socks, firm boots, a dark-hued sweater, and finally her jacket. As a last touch, she attached one of her holsters to her belt and inserted into its hold the loaded weapon she had snitched. Although she did not enjoy using guns in the least, far preferring knives – for in them there was no sense of detachment from the deaths they dealt – it was all she had to arm herself with immediately. Happily, it held a fair number of rounds. With any luck, she would not have to spend them soon, but if she must fire at her own fellows to meet her end game, she would do so without hesitance.

After all, she could live with herself if she took their lives…but not if she was responsible for Mewtwo's demise, and especially not if he was risking his life for her...!

Keeping herself shrouded in the shadows, Cassandra ran from the Team Rocket base into the outskirts of town, evading the headlights of passing cars. Upon arriving at the Gym, she paused, for the doors were open, suggesting that the building was occupied by more than the captured cat. However, even realizing she was probably walking straight into an ambush, the assassin moved forward - she had to. Casting searching eyes into the gloom, she sprinted through the hallways, her ears listening for the minute noises of foreign shooters, but no gunfire erupted in her race towards the doors into the arena. Reaching the exit, she carefully turned the metal lever and pushed…and then stepped onto the packed-dirt floor of the battling grounds. To the far end of arena stood who she had come to liberate. Hearing her footfalls approaching him, the clone lifted his head to gaze upon the new arrival. The chains wrapped about him trembled as he corrected his posture, standing straighter, prouder, not allowing the woman to feel pity. Yet her silver eyes softened all the same - he was such a fool! Why had he come back? Why had he done this? She would have been fine without him, even including the incident with Zachariah, for pleading self-defense would have proven acceptable, and the man's death had not been a great loss. Giovanni had suggested that much to her before. Yet now Mewtwo was here, and in his wake followed the exposure of crimes that had lethal consequences. In pure honestly the agent no longer knew what would happen to her…but it gave her solace to muse that Mewtwo, at least, would be free of punishment. Turning off the feeds to the currents running through the chains, she approached the clone and noted the locks on the shackles. Could she find a tool to undo them with, or must she risk shooting them off? Regardless, she stood before him and gazed upon him sadly – they'd chained him up like a dog!

She reached upwards, touching his face with her palm, and murmured, "You have to have had a good reason for coming here – tell me why."

He studied her sorrowful expression in the gloom, and analyzed her gentle tone. Then, in an equally low voice, he told her, (…Once, I made an important promise to you. Although I am sorely late, I wish to keep my word, dove.)

Blinking away sudden tears, she backed away from him, her hand falling from his cheek. Mewtwo had returned here, destroying the miraculous security that he had gained, merely to make a foolhardy attempt to free her from the organization? Had he not seemed so serious in his intent, she would have laughed at him, but she repressed the inappropriate urge with a sinking heart. They had been little more than children when he had sworn that vow to her, still young enough to believe they could find a way to make it work. Yet presently the dream was too far removed from reality to be a possibility…didn't he understand that? For God's sake, if she went with him now, Team Rocket would hunt them down as lions would a pair of lame gazelles; it did notmatterthat Cassandra was alegal adult: the manownedher person though honor and contract. Mewtwo must comprehend that if they left here together they would die within months, hemustcomprehend that his offer to liberate her came with a heavy, unavoidable price: the end of their existence. Not even he, an artificial demigod, was powerful enough to protect them against the wrath of thousands, who were backed with modern weaponry and an army of pokémon – including legions of the dark breed.

Was he truly asking her to choose him and die with him? Was he…?

There had to be a way to avert the imminent disaster! Shaking her head fleetly and forcing on a faux smile, she hurriedly said, "Mewtwo, you - you don't have to do this! That promise became void after we separated…I won't hold a grudge against you if you don't keep it. I'll be perfectly fine here in Team Rocket. Giovanni won't hurt me: I'm far too useful to him, and even he has to forgive sometimes."

Yet even as she spoke those words, she could see in Mewtwo's expression how little he believed her lies. Certainly, her godfather might allow her walk from this incident unscathed…but only after ensuring that her loyalty was solid. That would mean he would force her to commit an act so heinous, so traumatic, so destructive, that her already tattered soul would be shredded entirely, reducing her being to that of a heartless, mindless solider. She would then become his utterly, for there would be no spirit left in her to offer up defiance: he would have murdered it within her. Mewtwo, too, understood such a fate could well be awaiting her, and realized that if she was degraded to that level, the blame would rest largely upon him. Yet he had to make his offer to her, if only so neither of them harbored any doubt about the paths they were to walk along.

(…I cannot say what that man will do.) Mewtwo admitted. (Yet I will make this as simple as I can, Cassandra: either we leave here together, or neither of us shall. If you decide to stay in Team Rocket's grasp, then so shall I, even if that means I will perish and my corpse dissected for their use. I have come to terms with that notion. However, I cannot so easily accept allowing another to suffer merely so I may remain free, if an alternative option is available.)

He lifted his gaze to the moon above, whose ghostly light filtered down from the expansive sunroof of the Gym. (As well,) he remarked, (after you left, Psyche made a valid observation: never once has she known me to be truly happy. For although I have the freedom I yearned for, although I may do as I please, it is not enough, Cassandra…strangely, it seems as if I require a certain human to live my life fully.) His eyes fell onto her, and he quirked a miniscule smirk, (Do not misinterpret my meaning, though: I can live without you, woman - I have done so for years now. I by no meansneedyou.)

(However, I still desire to free you…and, I hope, have you at my side afterwards.)

He would say no more than that; he dare not express now how deeply he yearned for her: such would only add weight to her already crushing burden, and he did not wish to make an already terrible situation harder on her. Instead, he merely offered a way from the organization safely; whether she remained with him after their escape would be up to her own discretion. And if indeed she chose to stay with him, he would defend her for as long as he was able, despite comprehending that even a creature of his potent abilities couldn't hope to deflect the wrath of a mortal deity of evil for long. As he watched, his dove turned her body away from him, her moist eyes staring at the dirt beneath them. The angel bit her split lip, making fresh blood ooze from the wound, and seemed to fight back sobs of frustration. Finally she turned back, stepping close to him and kissing him soundly…regardless of the copper flavor, her companion savored her warmth, her taste, her-.

In shock at the affectionate yet alien display, one of the lurking shooters pulled the trigger of their weapon; a single gunshot fired, the round striking one of the chains dangling from the clone. Cassandra leapt back from the pokémon in response, pulling her gun from its holster and whirling around to fire in retaliation. Her shot was successful: blood splattered out from the shadows, and as if the sight of the liquid gore had struck a match over gasoline, hellfire erupted in the arena. The previously still air reverberated with the cracks of gunfire, and as bullets began to pelt the dirt around them, Mewtwo threw up a psychic barrier around Cassandra and himself, cursing when he spotted that the woman had already sustained some hits - not lethal ones, but enough to spill blood down her flesh. She too cussed, if wildly from mingled pain and fury, and aimed her weapon towards fresh targets. As Mewtwo tore himself free of the chains holding him, snapping the shackles apart with a surge of psychic energy, he charged a Shadow Ball in his paws and glanced at his partner. She was ready. Lowering the shield, he fired the dark orb into the balcony where a majority of the shooting originated from; in a flash of flame, gore, and rubble, the structure became a smoking crater in the wall. From there the firing only intensified – at his back he spied Cassandra reloading and firing off rounds desperately in her attempts to defend him, just as he was with her. Gathering up his psychic energy, which hissed and spit between his fingers, he threw the unstable sphere at the soldiers gathering on the sidelines of the arena. In his nostrils seared the odors of gunpowder, of burning hair and flesh, of blood and ozone, the stench arising from the decimated humans and the pokémon they unwisely released, all cut down by the combination of the couple's assaults and friendly fire. As the violence escalated, bodies blow apart and incinerated, so too did the sheer chaos and insanity of the struggle as the two manmade weapons fought to defeat the army closing in around them. Yet the pair could only fight so long and sustain so much damage – Cassandra now bled heavily, and Mewtwo himself possessed numerous gashes from where bullets and claws had bit into his flesh. Their attackers had missed hitting vital organs, but it was only a matter of time before-.

Abruptly a godlike voice boomed throughout the Gym:"CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! GOD DAMN YOU ALL,STOP!"

As the dust billowing up from the dirt floor settled and the echoes of gunfire quieted, Mewtwo and Cassandra, at each other's backs, stilled in their motions – still the assassin held her heated weapon at the ready, and still the creation cradled a hissing orb of destructive energy between his palms. The dark angel's frame trembled with fatigue, but like the panting pokémon whose psychic energies had been extensively taxed, she refused to show any greater display of weariness. Especially not to the man who the agents surrounding them now saluted; gazing upwards to the primary balcony, they saw that Giovanni had been present for the entire event, watching the battle unfold. Seeing that he had captured the duo's attention, the crime lord stood from his seat and strode to the railing, where he loaded the barrel of his favored pistol with utmost care, as if polishing shattered glass. Once done with the process he folded his muscular arms behind his back and placing his left hand around the wrist of his right arm. In that stance, he was an unmovable titan, and regarded the two that had fought so fiercely below with cold yet admiring eyes. In a previous time, the pair had been the prized treasures of his collection, the most refined weapons in his arsenal; yet as he well knew, every weapon had its undermining flaw. And that was what they were to one another: each other's Achilles heel. Although, as he had observed the battle, he mused that the duo had never allowed the frailty to get the better of them – they fought artfully and precisely to defend one another…and if it had not been such an abomination, it might have even been pleasant to watch.

Yet he had grown thoroughly weary of this conflict.

"You two have fought well," Giovanni said, his strong voice carrying throughout the confines of the Gym. "However, this struggle has lasted quite long enough. I heard the offer you made to my goddaughter, Mewtwo, and I think she would do well now to make her choice. Your organization or your…companion - make your pick, Cassandra. You are well aware of what each side can provide you."

So the conflict was to be decided through the decision of a teenager. Realizing her need for space, the clone took a step back from her, and observed how she stared at her feet with eyes wide from dismay. What was she to do? No matter what course she chose, death would inevitably follow…and while she herself was fully inured to the concept of dying, she did not wish for her companion to perish because of a decision from her…!

But no; this matter did not concern him. This was all about her. This was about her choice of path to walk forward upon, about a choice which would determine her future, and as of such, it was hers alone to make. So as she stood there, bleeding from countless injuries and attempting to regain her bearings, Cassandra quieted her erratic emotions and looked at each facet of the decision with a level mind. At the very least, Giovanni had taught her one valid truth, and that was when facing a difficult decision, she must remove herself from her feelings and the feelings of others, for they clouded the judgment, and she needed a clear mind for this task.

As of such, she could not ponder on what would happen to Mewtwo; that it would merely muddle her thoughts. Still, she glanced at him, and in private telepathy he murmured, (Whatever you decide, I will accept the choice as final.)

And so the angel weighed what each side could give her. If she stayed in the organization, more likely than not Giovanni would allow her to live; he might not even demote her to a degrading position which would only serve to humiliate her. If she chose her godfather, her mistakes would be forgiven: she could still live within Team Rocket comfortably, retain the power to wield command over fellow agents in crime, and would possess nearly limitless wealth and respect. Perhaps even more alluring, here remained the slight chance that she might survive her time as an assassin and gain a life of contentment. Certainly, she would be made to commit horrible evils…and yes, her life expectancy was likely still rather short…but there was yet the sliver of a possibility that she might see the dawn of brighter era. Furthermore, dare she forget that with her current position, she might be able to sway Giovanni to show mercy in the new campaigns he was planning to assault the land with? At his side, she had a chance to reason with him; after all, she was the daughter of his once most valued friend, and was practically his own child if one discounted blood. Did that all not count for something?

On the other hand, there was Mewtwo…but what did he have to offer her, truly? Choosing him might earn her a few months of life free from devastating innocent lives. However, she would yet be a murderer in that time, for she would unavoidably be made to kill those who had accepted her - mutations and all - into their fold. Could the outside world possibly hope to provide her the same level of tolerance? No, of course not; they would only see her as the monster she had been: an indiscriminate killer and a traitor to the federal government. In the eyes of the court, she knew, the crimes she had committed were deserving of capital punishment. This meant that if Cassandra chose the clone, she would be seen as vermin by both sides of the law, and would be hated by the entire world…except for by him. With him, there would be something so tiny as to almost be insignificant…but it was something whole and beautiful andgood, no matter how others judged it. But was that speck of purity worth the sea of ruin that would crash over them both? Was a brief period of wonder worth the rest of their lives?

…No, it was not…and to try to reach out for it anyway would be the paramount of utter madness….

So, in the final stages of making her choice, Cassandra called up to her godfather in a purposeful voice: "Signore, would you come down here for a moment?"

Intrigued, the crime lord nodded, and soon enough stepped out from the stairwell doors to stand some ten feet before the woman.

At that point, the agent met Mewtwo's gaze and said in a firm, unwavering voice: "I've made my decision."

And with that declaration, she stepped towards the leader of Team Rocket.

In the following minutes, several events cascaded unto one another in rapid succession.

Foremost, as the angel strode away from the clone, Mewtwo appeared to crumple: his expression fell with disappointment, and his body slackened as if in defeat, revealing fully that he had yearned for the woman to decide differently than she had, despite understanding that choosing him was no choice at all. Within seconds, however, he had regulated his reaction so he might watch her reach her godfather's side. Had he not done so, he would have missed Cassandra's next move: upon coming within two feet of the Italian man, she placed her cooling weapon in its holster and purposefully slipped her wedding ring off her finger.

Tossing it at Giovanni's feet, she said simply: "I choose insanity."

Before realization fully registered on her godfather's face, the young woman had turned and begun to sprint back towards the white demon she had chosen. Her previous employer, breaking out of his shock at the sight, snapped his pistol forward and shot a single round at the female without hesitance: the bullet clipped the side of skull, and as she crumpled into unconsciousness the replica darted forward, catching her in his arms. Gathering her unconscious form close to his chest, he sprang into the air, dodging his once-master's second shot, and erected a spherical barrier around himself and his companion to protect them from any more bullets to be fired in their direction. As the creation levitated them higher, the orb surrounding them casting icy light across the Team Rocket gang members, making the agents acquire a sickly parlor and turned yet trickling blood to liquid ebony, Giovanni snarled out:

"Mewtwo, you know how this will end! Will you condemn her simply so you can satisfy your selfish desire for her?"

The pokémon's eyes, their violet depths gleaming of azure, narrowed at this hypocritical speech. (My'selfish desire'?) He growled, and clutched his partner closer as he bared his fangs at the monster of a man below. (Youwere the one who eradicated her family,youwere responsible for the decimation of her youth, and you committed those crimes solely soyoucould use her as an executioner.Youare the selfish one, not I, and you would do well to accept the choice Cassandra has made: she hasrejected you, Giovanni, despite comprehending that this decision will result in her death.)

And then Mewtwo smirked ever so slightly, as if to scrub salt into a fresh wound, and hissed: (Tell me, what does it suggest about your organization when its left hand chooses to forsake it?)

The goaded one nearly howled with rage, and he fired round after round into the pokémon's psychical shield until his pistol was empty. Mewtwo himself exercised restraint: he did not retaliate, instead choosing to let this moment and all its implications permeate the man's mind. This behavior, with its inferences in who was the superior of the males, only further infuriated the crime lord, and nearly salivating with rage, Giovanni roared to his followers, "SHOOT THEM DOWN!"

One agent had the nerve to sputter out: "B-but sir, she's-."

"-I ORDERED YOU TO FIRE!"

And so once more a maelstrom of gunfire erupted in the arena; its typhoon of metal battered against the clone's barrier, but the assault did not weaken the sphere's integrity. Within an instant, though, the wasting of ammunition came to a sudden halt: for in the time it took to blink, Mewtwo and Cassandra had vanished. The white demon had teleported himself and his dark angel away, far from the threat of their firepower. After a handful of moments passed, the soldiers of Team Rocket all realized that the confrontation was over. They lowered and holstered their cooling guns, returned their teams to their pokéballs, and stood at ready for fresh orders, which seemed unlikely to be uttered immediately by the red-faced and shaking Giovanni. Eventually, however, their leader regained self-control, and observed with revulsion the damage that had been done to his Gym. With the growl of a feral dog, he turned away, his mind heaving over what had just happened: Cassandra,his Cassandra, had deserted him. She had defected from Team Rocket of her own violation to be with that – that abhorred monstrosity! Like a deadly infection, the mingled black emotions of fury and hate began to pool and fester within him, saturating him until he was within an inch of brimming over and turning on the nearest living creature to channel his anger on. His hands itched to maim, to kill, but he held at bay the urge, abstaining from it until he once again had the couple within his reach. Someday soon, he would make them regret their dispersal from his ranks...because with or without them, his campaign would move forward.

All the duo had done here was place themselves against him…and for that, as he would with all those on the opposing side, he would annihilate them.

One of the squad leaders called out: "Signore, what are your orders? What do you wish us to do?"

Shooting a scorching glare at the speaker, Giovanni snarled, "After you clean this place up? Make this public announcement: Agent Cassandra Winters, former member of the Elite Children and the Grigori Agents, has deserted our organization. She, along with her pokémon companion, must be dealt with promptly…every available unit we have is hereby ordered to scour the continent for them! When the freaks are captured, our agents have full authorization to use their own discretion in deciding how to punish the renegades - all I want the corpses, is that clear?"

The followers around him nodded their comprehension, and immediately flitted away, like leaves on a fierce wind, to act as heralds of his words. Giovanni, in contrast, stayed in the bullet-studded and gore-strewn arena and stepped over to where Mewtwo had been chained. There he stomped a heavy boot upon the broken links, grinding the metal into the dust, and imagined how it would feel to do the same with the clone's shattered, bloody bones. To him the notion was an exceedingly pleasant thought….

Mewtwo…you and your beloved Cassandra will suffer dearly for what happened here…I promise you that.

And hence, in that single night, innumerable vows were forged, broken, and remade.

Fate alone would decide which ones would endure the coming epoch….

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Author's Note:Review, please! Come on, quite a bit happened in this entry, so there's plenty to comment on. By the way, yes, I know I'm supposed to be on hiatus, but I just thought I'd spend my Thanksgiving vacation doing something fun for once. Life is exceedingly dull without writing, let me tell ya'….

At any rate, the next chapter is, thankfully, a bit shorter than this one, and you will all FINALLY get to read what I know you've been waiting for since chapter one. With any luck, I may have that next entry up within a month – my Christmas break looks to be nice and long (sixteen days!). Also, please go over to Deviantart when you have the opportunity and look up Sxueki. She's done a handful of colored images for this fic based on sketches I've given her, and her work is…well, it's extraordinary, and deserves hundreds of comments from fellow readers of AS. As well, if you go to my own profile (Elegia-The-Absol), you will find a sketch from the next chapter…for the record, Cassandra made me do it. Also, its name was dubbed by DMG Aeris, not me. I would have called it something else, but…well, it stuck.

Anyhow, I hope you all have a good day! See ya'.

- Abby