In some ways New Island really was the paradise Mewtwo had promised in his vision.

  It was larger than the size of the landmass itself would have ever suggested, extending not only upwards via the towers, but downwards into a cavernous undercroft that was in fact much more open than the ground level. It went down far enough that it must have gone below the waterline, but despite that the entire place was bone dry.

  Something that held true for most of the ‘New Kingdom.’ Everything was watertight, almost airtight, the ubiquitous marbled green-grey stone thick and solid. This place is a marvel. Abratwo knew a good amount about architecture – though the knowledge was admittedly purely academic – and the style of Mewtwo’s constructions defied comparison.

  It was a flowing, unsettlingly organic aesthetic – almost horrifying, though the simple practicality of the rooms washed any unpleasant associations away. It wasn't a movie set, but a city. Filled with all the things one would expect, from plumbing to food production to housing to more natural areas with actual greenery. And yet, it still unsettles.

  For New Island could not conceal the fact that it was empty. The so-called world's strongest had spoken truthfully when he'd said Abratwo was the first.

  But soon enough, a second migrant arrived.

  “Abra..?”

  The word came out as a growl, but for all that the throat it emerged from was unsuited, it was still obviously his name – and to be frank, Abratwo's reply was little better given his mental state.

  [Growlithe…]

  If he’d ever bothered to ponder which of his siblings would be next to arrive after him, the kadabra didn't think he would have arrived at the correct answer. He would have, most likely, settled on Spearowtwo, or one of the water types. But the Pokémon standing in the rain, drenched to the bone, was a fire type – and more than that, she had evolved. The arcanine shook herself vigorously – which, given that the docks were only slightly less wet than the nearby ocean, succeeded in little more than in splashing him. But at the moment he was beyond annoyance. [How? You- you can't have swam, surely?]

  She gave him the stink eye, which he supposed was fair. “‘Course not. Hot air balloon.” Hot air- what?

  But Abratwo put his incredulity aside; there would be plenty of time for questions later. [Of course… Come inside, out of the rain.] A gesture, concentration, and the great doors began to slide open – a feat that took substantial effort, as they were, in fact, meant to be opened by Mewtwo. [Did you- that is, for what reason have you come?]

  Padding forward, the size difference between the arcanine’s current form and that of his memories was made even more apparent – she was large, taller than even a human despite being quadrupedal. Water splashed off her shoulders as the great dog shrugged, and the brief footprints she left behind her could be compared to the size of his head. “Why not? Nowhere else.”

  …No. No, that's wrong. There was a place. But Abratwo kept the thought to himself as they retreated from the elements. And there will be again.

  We will build it, after seeing Mewtwo's ambitions ended.

  The kadabra received his half-sibling's story piecemeal, over the course of several days. The difficulty of dragging it out of her was mainly, he was forced to intuit, due to the embarrassment she felt – an emotion that he himself found amusing, more than the tale itself.

  Apparently the explosion hadn’t struck their side of the facility nearly as terribly as he’d assumed – a fact that was slightly puzzling given the physical crater he’d found when he’d finally worked up enough courage to backtrack and check. (Or maybe his memories were wrong? It had been nearly four years, after all… But his recollection of the destruction was so vivid…) According to Growlithe, more of them had survived than not – though many had been injured.

  Those injuries had slowed them while they’d fled from the facility’s ruin, enough that they’d still been within sight of it when night fell – and that proximity meant they’d been found right then.

  ([By who?] he asked, and her silence came down heavy and immovable. So he pressed, and pressed, and at last the stubborn hound budged.

  “…The military. The navy.”

  “Navy?”

  “Boat soldiers.”

  Yes, I know what the word means, I’m asking-! [And they captured you?]

  Another silence, lighter, thought rather than reluctance. “Some. Many scared, big explosion, shaken.” But not you. No – you would have run right to them. He didn’t say it, and neither did she, but a shared look told the kadabra he was correct. Even after years, there was still that… understanding.)

  Many of the survivors were captured in Pokéballs, the then-growlithe among them. They were taken to the mainland, and spent a long time in Oak Labs. Growlithetwo had conveyed that part easily, almost fondly, and though the details she provided were sparse, Abratwo could easily imagine it. Almost a direct continuation of their existence in Cinnabar; tests, training, though this time under the watch of Oak alone rather than all four.

  Apparently it was also Oak who’d eventually engineered their escape, a fact that the kadabra was also surprised by. Sam was a kind man, yes, but he’d also – as the clone had discovered in the many scraps gathered from the lab’s ruin – been the de facto leader of the project, if not necessarily its heart.

  ([He didn’t use you in the war at all?]

  A shrug. “Some. Went out, told ‘guard here,’ boring wait. Sometimes little fight; one man with birds, shadows that run away. Scyther always complained.”)

  But sometime around when Abratwo had been slowly building up to descending the volcano, Sam had indeed taken the clones out in the cover of night. They’d gone into the wilderness around Pallet Town, and he had simply… let them go.

  ([Damnation – you don’t remember what he said?]

  The kadabra received a withering look as Growlithetwo pulled her muzzle from the bowl. “Later. Eating.”

  It took effort not to telekinetically pick the dog up and shake her. [It’s been nearly a week! I told you my entire ordeal – can you not even attempt to reciprocate?!] It was… freeing, somehow, to express his frustrations so openly. Even after his evolution he’d been recalcitrant where Blaine and his people had been concerned; speaking with his own kind was simply different.

  And apparently the arcanine felt something similar, because she growled in unmasked frustration. “Years ago. The exact words…” Her tongue played over her teeth. “Gone. Something like… ‘In hindsight, Tenmo was right. One day, when the land has become peaceful, I hope we can meet again.’” Unlike her normal speech the quote – which was done in a passable imitation of Oak’s voice, even – was spoken articulately.

  That, more than anything, told Abratwo that his childhood companion was lying. Not only did she remember every word, but their cadence as well.

  But he didn’t confront her. He only went back to his own fish, the rest of the meal occurring in silence.)

  And from there, things grew a bit hazy. Away from civilisation and in the mainland’s mild climate, time became more fluid; Growlithetwo recalled the group breaking up, though whether that happened six months or a full year after leaving Oak she couldn’t say. The kadabra listened closely as she narrated, conveying the way the need for differing diets had driven them into increasingly fractured groups, the emotion of it clear in her voice. She’d been left with Scythertwo and Charmandertwo, and for a time – again, with little specificity – things had been stable.

  Then her natural abilities as a Pokémon had began to… waver.

  (“It was… I was afraid.”

  Abratwo shuddered. [I can imagine.] He and Blaine had noticed it happening, but his evolution into a kadabra had put an end to the issue before he’d felt the truth of it. Growlithe had… not had that mercy, if the cringe contained in her normally-proud frame was any indication. [It happened to you first?]

  “Char evolved before it got bad. Scyther… never. His moves kept working.” The dog shook her head. Her eyes were pointed at the stormy horizon, but it was obvious she was seeing something else. “It was like… sludge, in my veins, all the time. And even though Char was there so I knew…”

  Yes. While most Pokémon would evolve naturally, you… [How did it happen?]

  The rain attempting to batter its way inside was loud, especially as high up as they were – at ground level it rushed down the sides of the towers smoothly, tamed by the narrowness of the gaps between them, but at the top the wind flowed without impediment. The drops were basically horizontal, tiny battering rams entirely undiscouraged despite the solidity of the windows they were attacking. “…Don’t laugh.”

  [I will not.] It was an easy promise to make; learning that a good number of the other clones had survived may have lightened his mood, but he wasn’t exactly jovial.

  “…I joined the circus.”)

  The solution to the issue had been subterfuge; together with Scythertwo and the newly-evolved charmeleon, they’d scouted for a group that was likely to be able to get ahold of a Fire Stone. At first they’d been looking for one of the rangers that patrolled the wilderness, but by the idiot whims of fate they’d found something both less likely to blow their cover, and infinitely more degrading: a group of literal circus clowns fording the metaphorical rapids between cities by way of some startlingly strong fire type Pokémon.

  And so, Growlithe had simply… presented herself, and been captured. She'd masqueraded as a normal Pokémon, and bided her time. The troupe had journeyed across Kanto with her in tow, and while Abratwo could barely fathom the humiliation of pretending to be a literal circus act he refrained from asking for details; it was quite obvious that the arcanine, whose proud streak had developed into a thick, vibrant stripe, wouldn't be willing to relay anything.

  So he’d allowed her to skip forward. Eventually her trainer, a man named Toshi, had purchased a Fire Stone – likely with funds from his fellows – and Growlithetwo had become an arcanine.

  ([I assume you left after that?]

  A telling hesitation. Growlithe had never been the quiet type; despite her snout being supremely unsuited for Kantonese, surpassed only by Psyducktwo on that front, she'd always had something to… hah, bark about. And despite her evolution, that aspect hadn't changed – that she'd been much quieter since their reunion said more about the atmosphere than her base temperament. [You stayed? Don't tell me you got attached.]

  “Never mind that,” came a growling reply. “The humans… don't matter. Always- I always knew it would be temporary. Just nowhere else to go.”

  Abratwo nodded. I understand. For a time the two of them walked without speaking, weaving through the machinery that took up the base level of most towers. Mewtwo's kingdom was strange in construction, but what filled it was familiar: climate control, and cloning pods. While their appearance was as flowing and organic as the walls, the machines’ purpose was completely understandable.

  More clones. I suppose Mewtwo isn't confident we'll reproduce of our own accord. Or he was concerned for diversity; every existing clone was sourced from only four individuals on the human side, though whether that would present issues from a reproductive standpoint was an open question. We're entirely different species from the other side. Does that balance out? Does the… humanity even breed true, or will our hypothetical children be instinct-driven simpletons?

  It was a dark thought, and one he was glad to push aside when Growlithe finally found her voice again. “After a while… the dreams.” She shivered. “I couldn't ignore them – how could I? The wall of water…”

  The kadabra nodded again. [Terrifying.] It will not come to pass. I – we – will not allow it. [So you… stole a balloon?]

  “Yup,” she replied, the pop of the P falling flat as her muzzle failed to make the sound. “We were staying at a fair in Celadon. I woke up, went out into the dark, and… It was there. So I took it.”)

  It was almost a month before other clones began showing up, and that gave Abratwo an unpleasant amount of free time.

  Free time that his ‘ruler’ swiftly took advantage of. “Abratwo.”

  The kadabra stumbled as the deep, masculine voice appeared directly in his ear. “Gah-!”

  “Attend me.”

  Attend..? He waited a beat, more out of surprise than any anticipation of further orders, but apparently that was all. Annoyance frothed, fed by fear, and after a moment he jerkily turned. Arrogant-! As though I'm a mere lackey! The thought was enraged, but not necessarily serious; while it rankled to be ordered around, the fact was that Mew’s clone would need to become comfortable with his presence if Abratwo's plan was to succeed. So answering the summons was, in fact, to his advantage.

  It was with that begrudging acceptance in mind that he made his way to the room where they’d battled, teleporting past the outdoor sections and then directly upwards once he reached the central tower. Effort bent his face into a semblance of neutrality – and then, when Abratwo found that unsatisfying, determination produced a more natural expression.

  The doors opened – and there was Mewtwo, sitting in his throne and tending the storm as he always was. [You called for me?] the kadabra sent out, suppressing a flinch as the artificial legend’s attention was turned his way.

  “Indeed. Tell me, Abratwo… What do you value? Do you have dreams, ambitions?”

  Dreams? The word nearly brought his anger back. To kill you, you-! Urgh. [I suppose I desire to evolve again at some point. To gather the rest of… our people, as well. Though I suppose you are already doing so.]

  Despite moving only enough to glance at him from the corner of one eye, Mewtwo remained intimidating. “And?” questioned that deep, resonating voice, and Abratwo once again suppressed a frown.

  […I am… a goal-oriented person, Mewtwo. At the moment this… New Kingdom situation occupies my thoughts. If I have any dreams, they will be for the future.] When you are gone. Finding Kim, mayhaps; Blaine informed me he lives, though he’s apparently become an outlaw for some… computer-based crime. He’d never asked after the details; though his fingers were dextrous in comparison to his past as an abra, they remained too clunky for a keyboard. Books are greatly superior, anyway. [Perhaps I shall become a writer. Hah.]

  The stoic joke didn’t appear to land, as Mewtwo failed to react either physically or audibly. After a moment he turned back to the storm, though that did nothing to blunt the force of his voice. “It is likely to be many years before more… leisurely pursuits are possible. While I might wipe away the old world with my own hands alone, rebuilding will be a group effort. A writer…”

  [It was only an idle thought.]

  “…Regardless, I called you here to make an offer, Abratwo.”

  An… offer? Whatever it was, the kadabra was wary; what task could there be that the powerful psychic couldn’t accomplish himself? Nothing I’d want to do, I’m certain. And so, before speaking again, he braced himself to say yes no matter how unpleasant this mystery offer was revealed to be. His guard. so long as it is lowered – so long as I might gain his trust – I will endure anything. [I am listening.]

  Then, as the windmill turned lazily and the rolling clouds cast down rain past the wall-encompassing window, Mewtwo stood. He turned, and once again Abratwo was made uncomfortably aware of the difference between their heights. “My destiny is to rule over the world, Abratwo. But I have no desire for sycophants. In you, I see the potential for… an equal. An advisor of sorts, perhaps.”

  …The fact that this aligns perfectly with my desires is suspicious. [I… consider myself to be well-read?] Is he reading my mind..? No, no, I would notice such a direct intrusion. No matter how subtle he is, I have to believe I would notice it – accepting otherwise would be… Madness, or the path to madness at the very least.

  “Not that sort of advisor. What I envision is…” For the first time the youngest clone truly hesitated, though the pause was only a breath’s length. “More martial. Perhaps the word protector would be better suited. One who might respond to conflict, while my attentions are elsewhere.”

  [You intend for me to be… a police officer?]

  A strange look. “I suppose that is another title that fits the shape of what I intend. Our civilisation will one day spread to all lands, and I am not so arrogant as to believe it will be entirely harmonious.” Then, for a moment, Mewtwo's eyes went back to the window. “And threats may appear before that point besides. Giovanni…”

  The level of rancour stuffed into the word was surprising – yet another, set beside an ongoing series of the emotion evoked along the span of the conversation. Giovanni. Do I know any..? I believe I've heard the name, but I'm blanking on the context. A potential ally – though no, the chances Abratwo would be able to leave the island were essentially zero, not to mention the unlikelihood of meeting this person by chance, explaining the situation, and actually receiving aid.

  But he put the name to the forefront of his memory regardless. [I suppose I am not opposed.]

  “Very good. I was hoping you would agree – the first thing we shall do is work on your fragility, then your attack power, and-”

  [Wha- pardon, but what?]

  The fact that he'd been interrupted succeeded where the kadabra’s earlier joke had failed: Mewtwo smiled, his tiny mouth curving. “Do you think your current strength is enough? Not at all, my subject, not even close. From this moment forth, I will be molding you into the weapon the loathsome humans intended you to be – and then, so much more. Come, let us ascend to the roof.”

  He teleported with a pop of displaced air, and though his body was gone his voice remained the same. “As I said, our first focus will be on your durability.”

  By the time Squirtle showed up with Spearow – now a fearow – and Psyduck in tow, Abratwo had learned an entirely new level of humiliation.

  The reunion was suitably heartfelt, with the exchange of their collective stories revealing that even more of their people had survived and not been picked up by the government. But despite the festive atmosphere the kadabra wasn’t quite in high spirits.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  An emotion that Spearowtwo picked up on. “What’s wrong, Abra?”

  While the large bird had a narrow, savage-looking beak that lacked lips entirely, her voice was understandable – in fact, of all of them she was probably the closest to human where that aspect was concerned. Basically identical to an adolescent woman – maybe entirely identical, and the flaws I'm hearing are all in my head. Her timbre was almost the same as it had been in her first form, unlike his own lung-expanding transformation or Growlithetwo’s deeper, richer growls, and the nostalgia of hearing it was thick.

  He huffed before answering. [Nothing.]

  “Nuffing?” Psyducktwo – or simply Duck – drawled, her own beak a much greater impediment to speech. “Yer efen quieter dan before. Wha’s up?”

  [It’s…]

  “He’s been getting ‘training’ from Mewtwo,” Growlithe interrupted, to his dissatisfaction and the others’ interest. “It's pretty brutal. Comes back with his big dumb shoulder pads all cracked up.”

  They're pauldrons… [It is… sometimes unpleasant, yes.] But I can handle it. Recover was incredible, the energy pattern not only inducing extreme regeneration – not altogether different from that caused by a Potion – but also fixing mental fatigue. In truth, understanding what it was doing was, even now, beyond Abratwo's understanding; he could puzzle out most simple move effects by seeing the result and working backwards, but if his inborn instincts hadn't gifted him the move in its complete state, it would probably have been impossible to learn. But because I do know it, I can train to the point of breakdown without a lengthy recovery time.

  Mewtwo knows that; with any other… student, he would likely be more gentle.

  “So it's real?” Squirtletwo asked. “The thing that destroyed our home… It's really gonna destroy the whole world too?”

  [He is quite real, yes. But let us not ruin the mood by talking of him for now; come, you look hungry. We will eat, and speak more, and then only afterwards let us turn to practical matters.] The kadabra began to lead the way without waiting for an answer, and the others followed – though Growlithe did so with an eye-roll.

  “So bossy now.”

  “He has changed a lot, hasn't he?” Spearowtwo said as she flapped upwards, fighting her wet feathers for height. “He reminds me of Blaine.”

  “You are still only reacting. That will not be enough – you must predict, Abratwo.”

  Mewtwo punctuated the lecture with an unformed burst of telekinesis. And while it was too crude to inflict even as much damage as a Confusion, the weight behind it was still enough to knock the kadabra off his feet. Damn it-!

  He spun with the force rather than against it, pulling his body with psychic threads to tuck and roll. His exoskeletal carapace wasn't as sturdy as it looked – it was more effective at diffusing energy attacks than taking physical hits – but it handled the impact with the ground admirably. He came up-

  And Mewtwo must have used the opportunity to reposition, because Abratwo was struck from behind before he could re-orient. “Gah!” He's toying with me! Swift stars exploded off his body before Teleport took him firmly to the ground, Psychic held in his spoon and a Barrier ready to block. For a moment the two psychic types were still, though one stood with casual ease while the other was tensed in anticipation of further violence.

  “Do you hear my words? Or are you too arrogant to accept advice?”

  Oh, I am the arrogant one? You-!

  Another Teleport, and the Psychic burst out in an invisible wave. Mewtwo's defences – another formless expression of pure psychic energy, something that would be near-useless if a mere mortal were to copy it – were, as always, essentially inviolate. But I have been listening, you genocidal narcissist. Behold..!

  Abratwo’s Barrier sprang forth as the telekinetic attack was deflected – and then he immediately teleported out of its safety. But Mewtwo's gaze didn't waver, because an image of the kadabra remained where the real article had stood. Ha! Double-Team! From outside the more powerful Pokémon’s sightlines he was free to build up a proper Psychic Fang, and-

  And again he was struck in the back. He tumbled, instinctively curling like a gigantic orange and brown pillbug, and came to rest at his self-appointed master’s feet.

  “Do you see? With your psychic powers, attacking from a truly unexpected angle is possible. Simply glimpse a future moment of vulnerability, and capitalise upon it.”

  Simply… hah. His head was swimming from impacting the ground, and while Recover righted him the frustration remained. These little spars have shown me how naive I was… this creature wasn't just holding back during our meeting, he was all but playing. Even if I find that perfect opening… But despite the spitting, caustic blend of despair and hate in his core, Abratwo stood up. The rain-slick surface of the curved roof was cold under his feet, almost more than the downpour itself, but his stance was firm – even firmer, maybe, because of the unpleasantness. Hah… And yet, I must do it. I cannot even say it is for the world's sake at this point; no, it is my pride as a man that demands that I succeed! [The future? That attack… You're saying you struck me from the past?]

  A nod, as though the concept should have been obvious. “Have you never attempted it? Some of those attacks you use… I would consider them to be very strange. Futuresight should be trivial in comparison.”

  The hate flowed, mixing with everything else into a drug as potent as any Elixir. [Hmm. Very well, show me that attack again.]

  More clones. More reunions, more filled space, and as the seasons turned Abratwo found himself with additional responsibilities.

  Responsibilities that he immediately delegated, or at least attempted to delegate; unfortunately, despite their human intelligence many of their burgeoning number were, in fact, not blessed with any great intellect.

  [Who?]

  The single word caused the trio of Pokémon to flinch, though they did so in different ways. Dratinitwo – who’d actually usurped the title of youngest clone from Mewtwo, seeing as the explosion had occurred while the former was still in her tank – lowered herself down, her wormlike body grovelling in a decidedly un-draconic way. Char the charizard, in contrast, endured his ire with a shield of bravado; the great winged salamander was stock-still, only his wincing eyes revealing his true feelings.

  “Lay off it, Abra. It was like this when we got here.”

  The third, Mankeytwo, was in-between; he lowered his arms in contrition, but failed to turn onto a puddle like the dratini. And it was him that Abratwo focused on. [Oh? And I suppose you just happened to see it was damaged, and decided to crowd around it in an attempt to… fix it? Is that it?]

  The pig-nosed monster glanced guiltily at the air purifier – which had definitely not failed of its own accord, seeing as it was quite visibly smashed. “Uh… yeah.” A series of snorts, each of them radiating guilt. “We was… Jus’ comin’ around, ya’know? An’ saw it there. No funny business from us.”

  Despite his words the fighting type was sweating, and so the island's second-in-command pressed on the obvious weak link. [You realise that this pleasant environment is not natural, yes?] Abratwo stepped in. [New Island is a carefully maintained, artificial miracle, which relies on machines like this one to remain livable. If you are going to roughhouse, do it somewhere open.] Another step. [Now, since you refuse to finger the actual culprit, your punishment-]

  “Hey!” Char cut in, imitating the kadabra's intimidation by intruding on Abratwo's space – an effort that was less than effective, despite the fully-evolved clone’s intimidating, predatory body. “Don't pick on Mankey. And you haven't even proven we did it, yeah? So screw off.”

  You’ve driven Oddishtwo to tears entirely too often to use bully as a pejorative, you flying worm. Months ago, before his training, such a conflict would have seen the kadabra needing to actively suppress the instinct to flee. But the ordeals his master had sent him through had done more than hone his combat instincts – they had instilled mental discipline beyond a level he’d thought possible. I have stood before worse than you… not that such is a high bar.

  So instead of backing off, he matched the charizard’s energy. [I will need to tell Scyther to thank the three of you, seeing as you’ve just volunteered to take over manure duty this month.]

  “Manure?!” Char exclaimed, disgusted, as Mankey’s demeanour did a flip from meek to enraged.

  “Hoot?!” The non-word was followed by another series of snorts, and the unstable Pokémon’s face was red enough that Abratwo half-expected steam to start shooting from his ears. “It was Char! Make ‘im do it!” Actually, there was a haze coming from his snout – not exactly steam, but the intensity of the instinctive rage was both concerning and impressive. Perhaps I should suggest some lessons of his own… Practicing comportment would do him some good. After all, that anger must be even more disruptive than my previous cowardice.

  But that was something to ponder later; in the present, there was an outraged charizard to take care of. “What-?! We agreed to share the blame! Traitor!” Fire bloomed in the salamander’s throat-

  And, with a wave of his spoon, Abratwo sent Char out into the perpetual storm. [Ah, there we are. Dratini, you may go; Mankey, you and Charizardtwo will spend two weeks mucking the fields. That will be all.] Or at least, one can hope. But it’s likely I’ll have to fight that false dragon once or twice before he gets the message. Sigh, never enough hours in the day…

  As quickly as the mankey’s anger had bubbled up, it went away. His fuzzy round body seemed to shrink as he slumped. “I din’t do anything, though…”

  “Y-yeah..!” Dratinitwo followed, finding something resembling a spine now that she was outside the firing line. “You… you don’t do any of the hard work like the rest of us. Why do you get to hand out punishments?”

  […I don’t do any hard work, you say?] Once again the dragon shrank back and down at Abratwo’s telepathic voice. The kadabra gestured again, but not to banish anyone – he only pointed to the destroyed machinery. [I will be the one who repairs your blowhard leader’s aftermath, a task which will require me to painstakingly take that mess apart, manufacture replacement parts, and then put it back together and rewire everything. A task which will take multiple days, given that I have numerous other duties to attend to. Or are you volunteering? Shall I fetch the repair manual and a wrench set, hmm?”

  The dratini continued to shrink back – and then, with an apologetic look to her friend, turned and slithered away. “N-no, sir. I’ll go look for Char now…”

  [Humans? You brought humans with you? Are you an idiot?]

  The ship – a proper sailing ship, though not any model Abratwo had ever seen make shore on Cinnabar – lazily bobbed on the relatively tranquil sea directly bordering the docks, while the cat that had emerged from it only a minute previous stared at him with a squint. “Dat’s yer conn’ption? Gordy ‘n da men’ll be right on dere way, soon ‘s da damage ‘s all tallied up ‘n seen ta. So dun’t be hav’n a tizzy.”

  The accent spewing from Meowthtwo's lips – which was both atrociously thick and somehow oppositional to the Kantonese notion of syllables all at once – took entirely too long for the kadabra to parse. Almost longer than interpreting the cry of a wild Pokémon, which was frankly absurd.

  But eventually he sorted it out. [The duration of their stay isn't the issue, Meowth.] You- do you even realise where you are? What you've walked into? The island's master truly had a chip on his shoulder where humanity was concerned – the only reason they, and perhaps the meowth with them, were not dead, was because Mewtwo had ceased monitoring every new arrival. No, that is my job now – a job that you've made unreasonably difficult. How am I meant to keep an entire ship under his nose? [They are of the old world; Mewtwo will not allow them to survive.] Actually… did he even want to bother? What did he care if some sailors – most likely pirates, given the number of cannons – died?

  A snarl. “‘N he’s yer bossman, den? Youse jus' goin’ along wit dat coo-coo vision?” A snort. “How many ‘a us are dere anyhow? Who made it?” A frown. “Did anybody make it..?”

  For a moment the annoyance of having a new problem dumped live and squirming on his lap held, but then Abratwo expelled it with a silent sigh. [Through some miracle of architecture,] or, maybe, the fact that Mewtwo's ire had been specifically pointed at the scientists, [Our fatalities were remarkably low. Nearly all the clones survived, and a good number have arrived before you.]

  Meowth blinked. Somehow, his face had become more expressive over the years – or perhaps it was only the situation. Again, the seneschal looked to the ragged, barely-floating ship. I could end it with a wave of my spoon – one Psychic would take it to pieces. Actually seeing a human might set Master off prematurely… Just like the island itself, Mewtwo had to be managed – his power was simply too great to leave to its own devices. Should I..? The world, the very world is at stake…

  “Dat many? Dat’s great!” Suddenly the kadabra was engulfed in a tiny, fuzzy hug. “Leave da crew ta me, yeah? We'll stop dis ting… uh, sum’mat.”

  Again the unfamiliar cadence washed over him, and Abratwo loosened his grip on his psychic focus – and while he’d have liked to say it was a sudden upwelling of empathy, the truth was that the constant pull of the world had simply… begun to fray, overused as its relevance drifted off into the past. [Yes, I suppose I'll leave you to clean up your own mess. You'll have to bring them food and other things – I will say it again; should Mewtwo see them, they will die.] And that… is simply not within my purview to prevent.

  The arrival of Meowthtwo sparked a slightly larger celebration than usual – most had taken him for dead – but despite the festive atmosphere Abratwo remained pensive.

  Afterwards, he retreated to the rooftops. The cold flow of ice-water down his face and body was soothing, bringing clarity. Do I even care anymore? he thought, staring at the midnight clouds. Blaine is old, and his son is yet a barely-cognizant lump of flesh. Sam is old, Kim is old, they will all be dead before long… the only one who had a full life ahead of him was Tenmo.

  Invoking the name brought an answer: where before Doctor Fuji's death had sparked rage, now there were only ashes. Warm, still, but incapable of producing flame.

  Somewhere along the way… I ceased putting qualifiers in front of ‘master.’ When did that happen? But that question, unlike the other, had no silver bullet to invoke. Hah. The world…

  Perhaps the old world might be saved yet. But I can no longer imagine myself as its champion.

  A last few moments of wrangling, and everyone was gathered. Finally. You'd think I was trying to herd a gaggle of housecats…

  But it was done. Abratwo looked out across the audience room from his place at its head, and saw each and every person he was responsible for at once. It was, for a moment, nearly overwhelming; with the incubators working even better than the original Cinnabar Labs version, their population had more than doubled. The room was still far from crowded, given the scale the Master built in, but it was impressively close. An even sixty. And soon, that number will double again, then again…

  Anticipation and pride warred against anxiety, and the latter's defeat was near-total. With a spring in his every motion the kadabra brought his spoon up and produced a muted Flash, gathering the room’s attention. [Greetings, everyone. The master of our New Kingdom will address you in a moment, but before that I wish to express my own feelings.]

  He opened himself, and with an expenditure of effort Abratwo took in the room on an entirely different level. Empathy was not a skill natural to his species, but it was possible to skim the surface currents – and so he saw the heart of their kingdom laid bare. Some were like him, prideful, anticipatory; others were wary, almost afraid – those, too, were like him, though an earlier him. They seek to stop it still. No matter; they will reach the truth, as I did, or be placed to the side. Our power is too great now to be stopped.

  And then there were the youngest of them, the children. They were more varied; pure curiosity and boredom and cheer and interest. For some of them, this would be the first time interacting with Mewtwo – for some of them, this was their first time interacting with Abratwo.

  It was only for a moment, but the expanded awareness was enough to chase away any lingering nerves. [I would like to simply tell each and every one of you that I am proud. Five years ago we were scattered to the winds, many of us with no survival skills or knowledge of the outside world at all – some of us didn’t even realise we were different from ordinary Pokémon. And yet, to look at us now I would scarcely believe such humble origins. We are living, thriving, by our own power, without the aid of humanity or any other aspect of the old world. We create our own food, keep our own homes, and the knowledge and breadth of our capabilities are only growing. Our technology was created by us, and we are evolving further with each passing day.

  [I hope you will take my words seriously – you are, each and every one of you, precious treasures. Please avail yourselves of the refreshments, prepared by our skilled chefs Psyducktwo and Taurostwo, as Mewtwo prepares to announce a long-awaited piece of good news.]

  A bow, a teleport, and it was done. Abratwo looked down from the top of the great helix ramp connecting the lower room to his master’s dwellings, and let out a breath of relief.

  Thank Arcus that this, at least, went off without a hitch. Public speaking… I shudder to imagine the quantity of it that lies in my future. But of course, he'd have to overcome his distaste for it; with the New Kingdom set to expand into the void left behind, every aspect of his work was about to multiply. My final evolution cannot come soon enough…

  But for the moment, things were calm. The kadabra watched his people eat and converse, and for a moment was content to do nothing.

  Then, his master’s voice. “My seneschal,” Mewtwo spoke in his ear. “Have the inhabitants been gathered?”

  “They have,” Abratwo replied aloud, cringing internally at the sound of his own voice. So much weaker. I can only hope an alakazam's lungs are as superior to a kadabra’s as a kadabra's are to an abra’s. “At your leisure, my Master.”

  A moment of tensity as he felt power build far above his head – and then blue light shone down in a pillar of radiance. While the legendary clone was not the most socially-minded person, he did, in fact, have a well-developed flair for the dramatic; as Mewtwo descended, not even those with the greatest resistance to his rule could hold back a gasp of awe.

  Then the light dwindled, shrinking into a line, and was gone – all that was left was Mewtwo, standing on the air just high enough to be clearly visible from all points, framed by the spiral ramps.

  “Citizens of New Island, the time has finally come.”

  He did not yell – and yet it was obvious that the sound of his voice carried to each corner, from the top of the enormous room to the bottom of the water features.

  “We have finally gathered the essence of every living Pokémon that lives upon this continent… And so, very soon, they will be rendered obsolete. New life, blessed with intellect and strength eclipsing anything the old world could have ever conceived of, will populate the land. My great storm shall wipe the slate clean, and upon that fertile land we, the Earth's rightful inheritors, will flourish.” His hand raised, and the outer section of the roof was revealed to be pull-away – a fact that even Abratwo was surprised by.

  Oh my. How many tonnes of stone is he..? Perhaps it is a mechanical showpiece..? Mewtwo showed no sign of strain, and despite wholly believing in his power the kadabra would have assumed some sign of effort to be necessary to enact such a thing.

  But apparently not. “Yes, it is finally time for us to achieve our destiny. Rejoice!” Another wave – and this time, Mewtwo’s body strained. His eyes glowed like blue flame, lightning of the same colour arcing down his body, and more than either of those Abratwo boggled at the sheer density of energy that was revealed. Water. He doesn't even share the type – so how much psychic power is pressed into that body..?

  Mewtwo exhaled, and the torrential downpour of his godly Rain Dance doubled, then doubled again. It would have filled the audience room to the brim in an instant, save for the water’s creator keeping it back. “Rejoice!” he repeated, the strain audible in his voice as a slight warble. “In mere days, the storm that I have nurtured for years will be unleashed. Everything from the northernmost tip of Sinnoh to the southernmost island of the Orange Archipelago shall soon belong to the superior race, to you, to us! The reign of Mewtwo begins-!”

  And then, at the worst possible moment (Or was it the best? Was this not what he'd been waiting for, since the moment he'd first taken the living god’s hand?), disaster struck. A great shriek tore the air, and another, and another, and another pillar of light enveloped Mewtwo’s body. But it was no theatre – it was lightning, a veritable sea of lightning, connecting his body to the heavens for a brief, too-long moment of shock.

  Abratwo looked up, and for a moment all he could think was the military? But how did they get through the storm? Then the shapes resolved into the silhouettes he'd seen carved into the face of Cinnabar’s church, and the kadabra beheld the spectacle of three gods’ descent. The massiveness of the tower’s construction allowed the Articuno, Zapdos, and Moltres convenient access to the interior, and as they swooped low the seneschal’s heart did the same.

  What? What is- what? (Now! Now, before he-)

  With a burst of light and a cry easily equal to that of any of Kanto’s Heavenly Generals, Mewtwo rocketed upwards. “YOU DARE?!”

  Things became confusing from there, as not only did the area become immediately saturated with light and sound, but Abratwo, shocked and perhaps shell-shocked, briefly battled himself as well. Do I-? What do I-? Flame, lightning, ice cold enough to shatter stone, psychic blasts, and the lesser attacks of his fellows as well. As the formerly peaceful speech devolved into a maelstrom of violence he could only continue to hesitate. No! (Yes!) Not now! (Attack! Kill him!) I was- I've accepted it! This is my home now, I, I cannot-! (There will be no greater chance than this! Strike, be the splinter that pierces his foot at the wrong moment! He’s fighting three-on-one, this is the only chance-!)

  “No!” He leapt, heedless of the distance between him and the ground, and the tepid cry was instantly lost amidst the tumult – but the attack he loosed as he fell was not.

  The Hyper Beam, fortified by three years of practice and refinement, lanced out. It struck the Zapdos in the back-

  And the great bird whirled to fix the descending kadabra in its eye-

  And then, somehow, yet another unexpected interruption.

  In another drawn-out moment, the storm suddenly parted to reveal a vibrant pink field. The field coalesced, and slowly, ever so slowly – what's happening? Has time stopped? Why can't I move?! – a ball of radiance descended. It struck Mewtwo, and as he was cratered to the ground the strange spell ended.

  But the unnatural stillness lingered; even as Abratwo canceled his momentum with a reversed Gravity and touched down feather-light, his breaths quick and shallow in the aftermath of his powerful, draining attack, the fighting did not resume. Everyone's eyes, be they god or mortal, were on the bright pink sphere embedded halfway into the floor.

  Then a pulse of similar energy – not just similar, the same. Is this- could this possibly be..? – lifted the sphere away, and rather than strike the ceiling it dissolved to reveal the Pokémon within.

  “Mew,” said Mew – and unlike the cries of any other wild monster, this one Abratwo understood perfectly. ‘Child, this world is not yours. It belongs to all life, and I cannot allow you to destroy it.’

  Her clone stumbled a half-step before shaking off the impact, and then he was standing on the air once more. Upright, blue aura rising to equal his predecessor’s pink, his voice still strong and unwavering. “Mew. I never could have expected this – and yet, for reasons beyond my sight…” He smiled. “I am not surprised in the least! Face me, mother of the old world, and let us see who is truly this world's strongest!”