I am ready… to be…

  Meowth’s ears perked up as the strange, incongruous thought passed in one ear and out the other. Huh? In fact, it almost didn’t feel like a thought at all – except it had come from inside his head. What was that? Is Abratwo playing a prank? But it didn’t sound like his voice… Maybe I’m overthinking it?

  He opened his mouth, and forced his tongue into the correct shape. “You hear?”

  The simple words caused the tip of Fuji’s hair to bob as the doctor looked up from his clipboard, the strength of the lab’s lighting making the swooping brown waterfall somehow both more and less defined. “Hm? What was that, Meowthtwo?”

  “Hear? Sound.”

  The doctor blinked, cocked his head, and a second passed where it was clear he was trying to hear with his weak, round human ears. Meowth frowned. Not now. It’s already stopped. But the words came slowly, and so instead of putting in what would be a wasted effort he simply remained silent. “Sorry,” Fuji said. “I don’t hear anything.” Then his voice lowered – pointless, since the only other person in the room was a Pokémon with superior ears. “Infrasound maybe? Note to self, have the ductwork checked again…”

  The doctor returned to scribbling away, and Meowth couldn’t help but huff and let his attention wander. In the beginning it was easy to pay attention, but after nearly twelve months of testing the toys and obstacle courses of Fuji’s laboratory could no longer interest him; while the individual puzzles might be changed every few weeks and the nature of the tests tweaked slightly, the experiences remained mostly the same as they’d been when he was… born.

  At least Sam and Kim do interesting things. Fuji is always cognitive tests and exercise… And he was in the sad part of his sad to happy to sad cycle, so that was going to turn today into an even bigger chore.

  Though maybe that could be changed. “Battle test today?” the Pokémon attempted, hopeful.

  Fuji stopped writing, a frown beginning to form – not on the surface, but deeper inside, a place Meowth had no word for. The doctor’s face, at least, was interesting to look at; the hair on his head curved up and down, wavy and voluminous, while his beard did the opposite from below – the combination gave him a silhouette like a crescent moon, though unlike the real moon Fuji’s huge pointed nose jutted from the middle. It was a bit like Spearowtwo’s beak, actually – Meowth wasn’t sure if the man was ugly, by human standards, but he definitely looked different from the others.

  “Battle..? No, not today,” Fuji said, voice louder, looking up from his clipboard as the frown finally made its way to his lips. “I’d like us to do some more reading.” He looked up – and he must’ve noticed the Pokémon’s own frown, because then the doctor’s eyes changed shape. Pity, was the emotion Meowth read. Sympathy, regret, hesitation. “Although if you do well… I’m sure Blaine and Charmandertwo could be persuaded to have a match, afterwards.”

  The combination made him want to frown harder, to bear his teeth and let his claws extrude, but Meowth held himself back; it was important to reward the humans when they did things he wanted. Otherwise they wouldn’t keep doing them. “Thank you.”

  The words for that were ‘operant conditioning,’ and they were very useful.

  Again the doctor spoke whisper-quiet, so low that his peers wouldn’t have heard. “Always fighting… Is it the Pokémon nature coming out, or the human..? I wonder…” The clipboard went to its place on the desk, replaced with a different thing to write on: a notebook. Fuji’s notes were thick and neat, unlike Blaine’s own book which was thin, or Sam’s which was messy. Then he drew out a second book, a sturdier thing wrapped in some kind of skin. “You’re welcome. Let’s get started then: The Journey of the Gull,” Fuji named – redundantly, since the words were printed on the surface for Meowth to see.

  Inside, the cat sighed. There won’t be pictures – I can tell from how boring the cover is.

  Two hours passed, and then at long last they began to reach the end.

  Meowth may have disliked the cognitive tests, but they were still better than the medical ones – and there was a reward waiting for him, so he tried his genuine best. He read each chapter, answered Fuji’s questions, and attempted to guess what the next chapter would be about before moving on. It wasn’t hard, and only a little boring, and so halfway through the Pokémon concluded that today’s test was okay. Not as good as a battle test, but-

  I am ready… to be.

  The pen nearly slipped from his paws, the drawing of what he thought the main character would look like – if he were real and not just an idea – gaining a thick line. The motion was joined by a sound, a wordless expression of mixed curiosity and unease coming from somewhere deep inside. Both were involuntary, like jerking awake from a nightmare.

  “Meowthtwo? Are you alright?”

  For a moment, there was an overwhelming yet nameless emotion – and then it was gone. Like the stars disappearing with dawn, suddenly Meowth’s head was silent again. “Sound again. Words.” But not… Not human words, not Kantonese. The meaning is… closer to itself. More fundamental. He blinked. What? More fundamental to what? What am I even..?

  As he grappled with the slippery thing that refused to be put into language, even inside his own thoughts, Meowth watched Fuji’s expression take on a different texture of unease. “You hear someone talking? What are they saying?”

  “Weird. Deep?” Meowth continued grappling, the drawing forgotten. “Voice says: ‘I am ready to be.’”

  Apparently that was as mysterious to the doctor as it was to him, because Fuji’s thin eyebrows curved in confusion. “And… where is it coming from?”

  “…Don’t know. Gone again.” Actually, that was a good segue. “Battle test?” He said the words with a certain expression: eyes widened, lips pulled in then out, brows raised as high as they would go. The Big Eyes always worked – even on Blaine.

  Fuji’s expression dipped, juked, moved from dull confusion to a spark of frustration to resigned acceptance in the time it took to blink twice. “Fine,” he said, the harshness of the barked word softening as he continued. “I’ll see if I can rustle something up. Meet you in the battle chamber?”

  The cat nodded aggressively, and hopped to his feet. The Big Eyes always works.

  Meowth liked to think he was one of the smarter people in Cinnabar Labs. Evidence of this: he knew that the building was called Cinnabar Labs, on Cinnabar Island, an island – which was land surrounded by ocean, which was a lot of water in a really deep puddle – that was part of a country called Kanto. Things that the doctors took care to never say out loud when they knew the clones could hear.

  More evidence: he knew they were clones. And that clones were things that were born in a tube, instead of inside another living thing, and that that latter way was how pretty much every other Pokémon that existed was born.

  He knew that he was created as a military project – which was a special way of saying he was made to fight. And he knew that the scientists who’d made him must have done a good job, because liked to fight. Except Fuji. Fuji wants to make a smart human clone instead. Actually, all the really important doctors seemed to have extra things they wanted to do; Blaine was very concerned about something called a war, which from context Meowth was pretty sure meant a very large, long battle, and thought they should be making machines that a Pokémon could wear or drink to become stronger. Sam wanted to find new evolutions and complete something he named a Pokédex, and Kim was very, very interested in fusing ‘DNA’ with ‘EPI,’ though Meowth hadn’t figured out what those things were yet.

  The less important scientists, the ones whose names he didn’t bother remembering, also had their own concerns – mostly money, as far as he could tell – but they weren’t the people who controlled what was happening, so they didn’t matter much. That was another thing he knew: that the four lead doctors were the lead doctors, even if there were other ones who seemed to be doing all the same things.

  But more than anything, Meowth was smart because he knew that he didn’t know things. That he needed to keep learning.

  As so when he got the battle room, he didn’t loiter on the field to enjoy the big plants and soft dirt like he wanted to; instead, he picked the entrance closest to Blaine’s lair, put his ear against the crack where door met wall, and listened.

  Cinnabar Labs was full of all different kinds of rooms, but they could be roughly split into two groups: the ones where Pokémon were allowed, and the ones where they weren’t. The battle room was on the edge between one side and the other, and it was from there that Meowth had learned much of what he knew.

  A minute passed, and then-

  “We’re still a military project, Tenmo. And besides, they’re getting along quite well!”

  Meowth blinked, then smiled. Sam, not Blaine. Good. Blaine was gruff; he didn’t talk much, even when he was speaking to another human. This was going to be a good day, and not just because he would get to battle.

  “They’re like children!” Fuji countered, nearly yelling, and that drained a bit of the good feeling from Meowth’s bones. I’m not. I’m a year old already – fully grown!

  Sam seemed to agree. “They aren’t human, old friend. You can’t treat them like toddlers, that’s not fair to them.”

  The tap-squeak of rubber soles on tile changed as one of the humans’ anger was expressed physically. “We’re sending them out to die, Oak! People! They can talk, Meowthtwo can read like a middleschooler, they’re obviously people!”

  One person stopped walking entirely, then the other, and Meowth heard Sam let out a beleaguered sigh. “It’s not like we’re asking them to do anything a soldier wouldn’t. Like it or not there’s a war happening, Tenmo – and stopping it quickly, cleanly, and with a minimum loss of life needs to be our top priority.” The footsteps started again. “If a heavy conscience is the most we have to pay for that, I’ll do it with a smile.”

  A long pause, their footsteps growing louder, then: “Besides, it’s almost over. Mewtwo is grown enough to be woken up; everything’s worked out. Kanto has its weapon, you have your stable clone, Kimigawa’s theories will make him a millionaire… you should be happy, Tenmo. Go home with your new daughter – forget all this and be a family man, if that’s what makes you happy.”

  They approached, and the cat retreated. Mewtwo? The name was familiar – it followed the same scheme as the rest of them. Another clone. Of ‘mew,’ whatever Pokémon that is. Another cat type, maybe?

  The knowledge he’d gathered sizzled through Meowth’s veins, invigorating him as he slinked into the underbrush. ‘Almost over,’ he said. Does that mean we’ll get to leave soon? The possibility was sweet. I want to. I want to see the world outside this building – the whole thing, not just what I can spy through a few cracks.

  As he pondered, the door finally opened. The greying Professor Oak walked through swiftly while the scowling Fuji followed at a more hesitant pace, the former letting out a breath as he calmed himself. “Let’s put all that heavy talk aside for now – after all, we have a young man to entertain!”

  Sam’s large, expressive eyes scanned the low foliage – and Meowth felt a pang of annoyance when the professor immediately spotted him despite the Pokémon’s attempts to hide.

  “Meowthtwo, it’s good to see you!” he continued, walking forwards. “Sorry I haven’t been in to see you and the rest this past week, but Blaine’s gone mad over these new stimulants he’s developed – and Kimigawa is adding fuel to the fire! Honestly, those two are always bouncing around every which way…”

  Samuel Oak – or just Sam, as he preferred to be called – was a very normal type human, at least as far as Meowth’s small sample size could be trusted. He almost looked like one of the subordinate scientists; his grey-brown hair was cut simply, short down the sides and windswept up top. His head was square, matching a slightly wider, bulkier body than most humans, notable but not nearly aberrant enough to stand out. His eyes were black, his skin bore a mild tan, and he was always energetic and upbeat.

  In comparison to the cavorting bones-and-fat Kimigawa, the alternatingly sullen and feverish giant-haired Fuji, and the erratic-but-stoic Blaine with his bald head and perpetually-burnt clothes, Sam was almost a background figure – and yet he was Meowth’s favourite. All the clones’ favourite. He was fun, in a way that felt… deeper, more personal than Kimigawa dancing in the halls when an experiment worked out or Fuji’s condescending kindness.

  “Sam,” Meowth replied. “Battle test?”

  The human laughed. “Of course! Though I’m afraid none of the other special Pokémon were available; you’ll have to settle for my old raichu.”

  That was fine. Meowth stood up from the undergrowth with a nod, shook off a few stray leaves, and made his way to the far side of the field. It was hard to maintain his dignity as he went; battles were exciting. “One?”

  “If you beat him we might do another,” Sam allowed. “Though it’ll have to be quick; I’ve got some exciting things happening later that can’t be put off.” Mewtwo? He said he was ready to wake up – I wonder if we’ll meet.

  Sam threw out a Poké Ball and, with an oddly comforting sound, a large orange rat appeared. As always the appearance of the much-larger rodent sparked something in Meowth’s subconscious, an instinctive wariness that came forward when he was in the presence of an evolved Pokémon. The raichu held no such regard for him, though; the giant rat barely acknowledged the predator’s existence.

  “Hello,” Meowth said, but there was no response – and he chided himself. Stupid, always trying to talk; if they could do that, the humans wouldn’t have needed to make me. “Battle start three?” he continued, playing it off like he’d been talking to Sam the whole time.

  “Actually, why don’t you make the first move? No need for a countdown; I want to see if you can outsmart Raichu.”

  That made his eyes narrow. Outsmart? Don’t say that like we’re on the same level! Meowth had been working on his Fury Swipes with Mankeytwo; it was very possible he’d win in a full-on fight.

  But in the next moment he folded the competitive anger away, his eyes narrowing further in thought. “Fine. Win in first move.” That only made the professor chuckle, and the annoyance spiked back up for a second. The cat exhaled sharply. Dumb rat won’t know what hit him.

  First, he drew up the pattern for Scratch. It wasn’t really a pattern, but that was the word that fit closest; like a thousand thousand glittering stars, drifting in great clouds across his body before being pulled into a constellation.

  A constellation that made something. Meowth’s claws lightened, and he knew that if he looked down he’d see a faint sheen to them, almost like a coating of oil – but he wasn’t done. The stars, the puzzle, the vibration, the energy could be put in a different order, and as he slowly circled around the raichu’s fat body Meowth did just that; he pulled pieces away and put them back differently, slowly turning Scratch into Fury Swipes.

  It wasn’t yet a real Fury Swipes, the way Mankey could do it, but the power was there – and still he wasn’t done. Another pattern came up, a second type of energy thrumming through his body.

  The two moves ground against each other, fighting as they occupied the same space, and with a savage cry he pounced before they could annihilate each other. “Combo!”

  The rat had the gall to look affronted, merely sweeping its lightning-bolt tail across to intercept Meowth’s attack as lazily as possible – but its expression turned to confusion as the Feint did its job, causing the defensive Tail Whip to whiff. The limb slid harmlessly across his body as Meowth descended, claws gleaming, and satisfaction filled his heart as he first drew blood. The raichu squeaked, more in surprise than pain, its expression becoming angry as sparks shot from its cheeks.

  But he still wasn’t done! Combo! His claws came around again, drawing more blood, tiny droplets flying as again, again, again Meowth struck his opponent’s body and face, a flurry of blows that flowed into each other so perfectly there was no gap for retaliation-

  Until the incomplete pattern fell apart, the immature cat’s body incapable of sustaining it. Meowth blinked as his claws suddenly caught on the raichu’s fur, stuck fast – or stuck slow, actually. From the sidelines came a cheerful clap, completely at odds with the dread blossoming in the cat’s gut. “Was that an attempt at a combined move? Magnificent!” Sam’s voice blended with the continuing crackle of sparks his affronted raichu was sending out, the different reactions leading to a singular result. “You were close! Another week or two and I’m sure you’ll have it down – but I’m afraid it’s Raichu’s turn now!”

  Pain.

  “Another Potion?” Sam asked, cordial as always. It took a bit of the sting out of losing twice – first to Raichu and then to another rodent Pokémon, a blue round thing that the professor called Marill – both figuratively and literally.

  “No. Pain done.”

  “Gone,” the human corrected, and Meowth nodded.

  “Exciting thing happening today?” he asked, licking his paw with a lingering shallow shadow of dejection; he liked to battle, but he liked it more when he won. “Can I see?”

  Sam blinked, and rather than answering looked towards Fuji. The taller, thinner scientist made an ambiguous expression, and Meowth was surprised. Oh, I thought I’d seen all the faces he could make. What does this one mean? “I don’t think so,” Fuji eventually said. “We’ll be in full clean-room mode for it; you’ll have to wear something airtight for your fur.”

  Blah. Meowth stuck out his tongue, expressing his disgust at the thought of wearing the heavy rubber things he and the other Pokémon needed when they were inside ‘clean rooms.’ “No thank you.”

  “I thought you’d say that,” Sam replied with a nod. “But it never hurts to ask. Perhaps I can introduce you to-”

  Was everything before just a dream?

  The weight of the thought was like what Meowth imagined the ocean must be like, water and water and water as far as the eyes could see, rippling softly in the outside air. It washed out everything, sight and sound disappearing underneath, and when he was himself again Meowth could only stare at the bright light in front of him, confused. Then he gathered himself up, a shake of the head re-orienting his senses – he’d fallen down.

  As had the humans, at least partially. Sam held his knees, sweat coating his face, while Fuji’s arms were wrapped around a bush. “Heard that? Voice. Heavy. Where from?” Meowth asked, half-babbling, and Sam’s eyes focused.

  “Mewtwo- the lab!” he cried, ignoring the Pokémon’s questions while also answering them. “Tenmo – you get over there right now, I’ll check on the other two.” A pause. “Now! We need to move!”

  Despite the urgency in his voice, the old human was slow to get going, his spine straightening only with what seemed to be immense effort. Sam helped Fuji detach himself from the plant without falling, and the two began to walk while Meowth followed – at least for a ways.

  “Meowth,” Fuji said as they went through the exit. “You should go to your quarters and lay down – there’s no telling how many times that will happen.” The sadness he’d been carrying the whole day was gone, replaced now by a manic gleam shining from his eyes. He seemed larger like this, despite needing to lean on Sam’s shoulder; his hair, his limbs, even his breaths were more voluminous, each inhale sucking up more air than should have fit in his lungs.

  “Tenmo’s right,” the other scientist agreed. “Please check on the other Pokémon for us; the caretakers should be doing that themselves, but-”

  They’re outside – where I must be.

  Again, the whatever-it-was struck with an all-erasing weight. Meowth disappeared for a second, no room left in his head for thought or personality or awareness – and when he came back, he was on the ground again.

  Fuji wheezed out a “Go,” and found his feet first. He hobble-sprinted off, leaving Sam and the Pokémon behind.

  “What happening?”

  “A- an experiment with a powerful psychic Pokémon.” The professor breathed heavily, then spat to the side. “Its abilities seem stronger than we assumed they’d be.” His eyes, like Fuji’s, held a gleam of triumph as he smiled.

  Psychic. Meowth knew that word. “Like Abratwo?”

  “Yes, exactly- sorry, I need to go. You get yourself back to the dorms!”

  Then he too left, turning a different corner from Fuji, and Meowth was alone. Psychic… that didn’t feel like a voice. When he ‘spoke’ with Abratwo it was almost like hearing words; the sedate clone’s tone was small and somehow fragile, like the sound version of the cobwebs that appeared mysteriously in disused rooms. The voice of this Mewtwo was something entirely different, stronger than the solid walls that made up the labs.

  Meowth lay on the floor for a minute, still dazed, and was only roused when another researcher thundered past in a sprint. He rolled clear of the woman’s path at the last moment, panic moving his limbs where intellect failed. I shouldn’t be here, he thought as the white tails of her coat disappeared around a corner. The scientists are panicking, but once they calm down they’ll be angry I came this far in. I should do what Fuji said, and go check on the others.

  But…

  This was his chance to learn more than he ever had before. He’d never been able to sneak into the human-only sections – the opportunity was irresistible. And so when he stood, he padded further into the unknown rather than back to his nice soft bed.

  And that meant that when the explosion rumbled through the building, he was close enough to be caught in it. He looked up from the documents he’d been pawing through, a vibration rattling the tiles of the empty room, and glanced towards the door – but before he could do more than begin considering whether to double down on exploring or change his mind and flee, the door made its own decision and leapt inwards. Whoa-! It rebounded off the desk Meowth was standing on, fire following in a burst of light and heat, and he barely managed to get behind the solid wooden thing before the room caved in.

  When Meowth woke up, the first thing he noticed was smoke.

  The second was blood, the third pain, and the fourth thing he noticed, made very evident as he tried to move, was that he was pinned under the half-crushed remains of the desk. “Help,” he wheezed, choking on thick black air. “Help me-!”

  A coughing fit stole his breath away, and when he recovered he noticed a fifth thing: the room he’d been in no longer had a roof. Visible through the splintered wood that hemmed in his vision was a brilliantly blue sky, completely clear despite the horrible clouds covering the ground level. He’d only ever seen tiny slivers of it through bug holes and windows too high to reach, and the way it stretched out would have been breathtaking if he’d had any left to take. It’s so far away, was all he could think for a long second.

  Then his attention was taken by something far less beautiful, if equally intimidating; a great mechanical slice-thump-rumble entered his ears, and all at once the smoke cleared.

  Meowth looked out from his pile of rubble to see a gigantic metal thing, bigger than any Pokémon he’d ever seen, descend to the ground on four spinning wings. Watching it with him was something else – not a human, though it was roughly that size and shape.

  Is that..? Mewtwo?

  Grey skin, or maybe fur, with a slightly more vibrant purple curving from its belly up the length of a massive tail, the limb easily equalling its body in volume. It looked a bit like Abratwo, with an armoured-looking section covering its shoulders, but the scale and sharp, triangular eyes were more like a male human’s. “Help,” Meowth croaked again, watching the tall Pokémon watch the metal bird in turn – but the effort was almost certainly pointless; they were basically the entire length of-

  They’re basically the entire length of the labs away, Meowth thought incredulously. What happened to the walls? Where are the researchers? The only thing other than the distant figures and more distant sky was rubble, some of it still smouldering away despite the behemoth’s descent creating a strong wind – a wind that didn’t touch Mewtwo, if that was what they were, at all.

  The flier came in slowly, hovering, and landed – and then Meowth realised his mistake as its side opened. He wasn’t looking at some massive fully-evolved Pokémon, but at a vehicle like the trucks he’d seen in picture books. How? How can something so big fly without flying type energy? From inside emerged a man, and the contrast between him and his transportation underscored just how huge the latter was – it was bigger than the room Meowth slept in.

  Mewtwo, too, gained something to be held against as the human approached, his black clothing flapping in the wind still issuing from the spinning wings. The Pokémon was taller than any human Meowth had ever seen, at least six feet. “Help,” he cried out fruitlessly. “Help me! Mewtwo!”

  The Pokémon failed to notice; it only had eyes for the approaching man, and the cat fell silent. Without anything to do, he could only watch and listen – an effort that was proven half-useless as Mewtwo’s speech boomed through Meowth’s head, less intense than what he’d experienced before but still distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Another human? No, you are different. What are you?”

  Even hundreds of metres away, Meowth cringed from the harshness of Mewtwo’s psychic voice – but the human’s brow only tensed for a moment before he continued forward. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he said, voice almost entirely smothered under the flying machine’s cacophony. “I am human. Giovanni, the master of a city to the north. And you… are Mewtwo. The strongest Pokémon in the world.”

  “Am I?” Mewtwo asked again. “Pokémon… The creatures who created me called me a clone. A mere copy.”

  “Mere? You are only a copy in the way any child is a copy of their parents. No, your power is-”

  The rest of the sentence was lost as the smashed desk shifted, something on top moving in a way that made the wooden walls press harder against Meowth’s back. His breath rushed out, and despite straining with all his might his lungs failed to fill enough to satisfy. He began panicking, Scratching at whatever was in reach, trying to break free of the pile.

  Psychic sentences smashed into him, useless with only half the conversation. “You think me a weapon as well?” “That cannot be my destiny.” “Control? I am already in control.”

  And then a great shifting brought Meowth’s panic over the edge. He thrashed, the world narrowing down to just a rapidly-darkening hole pressing in from all sides – before a miracle occurred. Everything shook, and suddenly he was free, or freer at least, for he could suddenly move his arms and breathe properly again. The top of the desk blew away in a great shockwave, and his attention went to its epicentre – to where Mewtwo floated, glowing with a solid blue more intense than even the sky.

  “Do you see my control, Giovanni? Do not insult me further.”

  The human’s – Giovanni’s? – machine tilted, sliding across the ground under the pressure of Mewtwo’s power. The man himself grimaced in pain for a moment – but that was all. Somehow, through a process Meowth couldn’t conceive of, he remained standing before a force great enough to blast away rubble an entire lab-length away.

  “I speak no insult,” Giovanni’s calm, unshaken voice called back. “You could be ten times stronger, a hundred, a thousand. Join me – with your psychic powers and my resources, together we could control the world.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Mewtwo hung in the air, and again Meowth was reminded of Abratwo – but unlike the tiny, fearful abra who could only float just above the ground in a strange, boneless manner, this more powerful psychic stood on the air like it was more solid than hard tile. His head lowered, and Meowth braced for another explosion – but there was only the Pokémon’s deep voice, rattling the cat’s head but leaving the rest intact. “The world… Show me.”

  Am I going to die under here?

  It wasn’t the first time he’d thought it, in the past minutes. Since Mewtwo and Giovanni’s departure – the latter in his machine and the former flying under their own power – Meowth had been struggling against what was left of the debris covering his body. But despite being diminished, it was still much too heavy to move. Neither Scratch nor Fury Swipes nor even Pay Day could make more than a surface-level mark on the hard chunks of stone and wood, and though he could breathe again his back half was firmly trapped.

  The panic was gone, but in its wake was a calmer sort of fear; his left leg hurt, while the right one was distressingly numb.

  I should have listened to Fuji and Sam. The others probably escaped from the explosion, since they were further away. Or they were dead, a more pessimistic part of him replied; there weren’t any intact rooms in his field of vision, even as far away as the dormitories would be behind his back.

  Only rubble and sky, and a small slice of earth arching upwards – the wall of the volcano, a terrain feature Meowth was really hoping would be set off by the explosion.

  Minutes continued to pass as the Pokémon struggled, widening the little scratches he’d made into… big wasn’t the right word, but medium felt like giving up, so he supposed they were big scratches. The energy coating his claws protected them, but it wouldn’t last forever; already he was getting hungry, and his hurt leg pulsed like-

  “Ey! Wat’s goin’ on ‘ere? Boys, spread out!”

  The voice was strange, different from any Meowth had heard before, but despite that his heart soared. “Help!” he called back. “Here! Under desk!”

  Footsteps answered, very faint and far-off – whoever his rescuer was, their voice was loud. “Surviv’rs, eh? C’mon boys, time to do us our daily good deed!” More footsteps, heavy and numerous, and Meowth continued to call out.

  Eventually, a pair of human legs appeared. “Under ‘ere, eh? Sounds like a little kid – ‘bout da right size for it, too.”

  “I’m Meowth! Dig!”

  Scrabbling, grunts, and other sounds as the rubble was moved away. Six of them, maybe? Some of the footsteps feel weird… They don’t talk like the researchers, either. Meowth waited patiently, afraid that trying to pull free too early would only cause him to crush himself at the dumbest possible moment – but soon, the weight lifted off his back.

  He looked up at the faces of his rescuers, and found surprise. “Blimey, boss,” a thin man said. “That’s jus’ a meowth.”

  I already said I was, didn’t I? Despite the pain coming from his lower body, the Pokémon smiled. “Thank you. Rescue. Explosion – should find others.”

  The humans continued to look surprised, their expressions becoming stronger if anything. The first person Meowth had heard – the one the thin man had called ‘boss’ – worked his jaw like he was chewing his tongue. “Well I’ll be damned. A talkin’ cat. Boys, I’m right stumped.” A series of groans, for reasons Meowth didn’t understand. “But puttin’ dat aside, dere’s some loot what needs lib’ratin’. You all get on it bef’r da authorities get ‘ere, I’ll deal wit’ dis oddity.”

  The humans looked at each other, shuffled for a bit, and then broke up.

  The man who rescued Meowth from the ruins of Cinnabar Labs was named Gorgy. He was something called a pirate, or sometimes a privateer, two words whose meaning the cat couldn’t seem to get a straight answer to; when he asked, the answer was always a wink and an obvious deflection.

  “We’re just honest busy-ness men, see?” or “Bruvvers ov da sea, little boyo,” or “Dat’s not a question youse should be askin’, catnip.” None of Gorgy’s crew ever said it the same way twice, and after a week Meowth was convinced it was some kind of joke – and he was the punchline.

  They hadn’t found any of the other clones… But they also hadn’t found any of their bodies either, so he remained hopeful.

  Something he couldn’t say about Fuji or most of the other scientists.

  They’d scoured the remains of the labs for everything identifiable as something other than a pile of smashed, charred bricks, loaded them up on their ship, and then…

  Dere are clouds again today, came a listless, vapid thought. Meowth found that they were becoming the norm; as he grew more used to the rolling motion of the ship under him, it seemed like his head was calming along with his stomach. Some days he barely thought in words at all, just watching the ocean go by in a great unbroken line of blue. Choppier ‘n I’d thought it’d be. More wind.

  “Oi,” came the voice of Scubby, the swabbie – another word that Meowth hadn’t quite sussed out, though he was pretty sure it was somewhere within throwing distance of ‘boat janitor.’ “Boss wants ‘a see ya, catnip. Gedoutta theer.” His head popped up from the edge of the crow’s nest, red hair flapping in the breeze.

  Meowth sniffed. “What’s ‘e want?” To his mingled frustration and acceptance, not all the letters made it to where he wanted them to be; the crew was a mish-mash of wildly different accents, and with each day it seemed like his own voice was changing to match. It was easier to speak than normal Kantonese, but he was halfway afraid that he’d become as indecipherable to other humans as Gorgy’s men had been the day they’d met.

  “Didn’t say. Ee’m takin’ yer post anyhow, so scoot.”

  He huffed, but obeyed; the way down from the nest was nothing more than a mess of ropes, and with increasingly-practised motions he descended with what, a week ago, would have been an insane pace. His claws made dull sounds where they met the deck, digging into the wood lightly enough there probably wouldn’t be a mark.

  Laconic greetings sounded out as he made his way to the captain’s quarters, but Meowth only grunted back. Bad mood today… The crew of the Cloud Bullion, which was the name of the ship, was as varied in appearance as they were in accent; some had cream-coloured skin and others dark chocolate-y brown, some were tall and others short, some fat and others thin. A few were even missing bits, eyes and fingers and Gorgy a whole leg, a fact that still left the Pokémon feeling a bit queasy to think about.

  They were obviously fighters, and obviously not from the same place, and pondering the mystery of their origins always made him wonder if there was a similar variety of meowth. The pictures Sam had shown him all looked mostly the same, but presumably those were local meowth; would one from an entirely different continent not look different, the way Gorgy’s crew did?

  Wonder if I’ll ever be able to see, he continued to think as he arrived at the captain’s door, lazily scratching the rough wood to announce himself. The ocean is wide – the world is bigger than I’d thought. It takes a whole day of sailing to go from one coast to the other, and that’s not even leaving Kanto…

  He shook off the thoughtful mood as Gorgy answered. “Dun’t scratch da damn wood, boy!” he cried, booming voice easily overpowering the thick wood. “A hunnerd times I’ve said it! Now get in ’ere, afore I fix to belt ya a strong one!”

  Meowth rolled his eyes. I swear he’s puttin’ it on stronger every day, just to confuse me. The doorknob was slippery in his paws, more than the ones in the lab had been, but with some effort it turned – and then he was stepping into a dim, smokey room covered in maps.

  They blanketed every wall, in too many styles to name; clean white with crisp black lines obviously made by a computer, aged parchment with ink blots and handwritten notes, full colour illustrations with realistic Pokémon drawn emerging from the ocean – again, there were dozens and dozens, blending together into a single colourful tapestry. Meowth’s eyes scanned up and down, drinking in the ambience for a brief moment before his attention settled on the large-boned man sitting in a stiff-looking fabric chair.

  “Meowth,” the pirate greeted, and the cat returned a nod.

  “You wanted see- to see me, boss?”

  Another nod. Gorgy’s face was tight; the fat piled under his cheeks, which usually made his smile look welcoming, was instead stretched out in an uneasy near-grimace. “I did, boy. Been with us a whole week now, yeah?”

  “Yeah..?”

  A third nod. “Yeah. Da boys ‘ve takin’ a real likin’ to ya, kitty.” His face says there’s a but coming. “But…” Dang it. “Speakin’ honest-like, we’ll be goin’ on back ta our usual profession right quick. Pretty sure you’ve put dat together now, even wit’ da men puttin’ it soft.”

  “Eh,” Meowth grunted. “Somethin’ to do with fightin’. The war?”

  Gorgy’s expression went in a strange direction – for a moment the cat was reminded of Fuji, but it wasn’t sadness. Not regret either. Not fear or apprehension… Not guilt either. He couldn’t place it. “Dat’s right. ‘N I don’t wanna be draggin’ ya in on dat pile ‘a onix droppin’s. So’s I was thinkin’ we’ll sail out an’ out ta Goldenrod; dere’s a man named Bill dere, an he’ll be real interested in ya. Cushy life goin’ out, lucre comin’ in fer us. ‘S a good deal both ways, far ‘s I can see.”

  Meowth blinked. Oh. “Okay,” he said – but for some reason, it came out hesitant.

  Is that… what I want?

  He couldn’t honestly say. He wanted to find his friends, his fellow clones, but they were on Cinnabar if they were anywhere. He also wanted to explore the world, and maybe poke Mewtwo in the eye if there was ever a way to do that without being reduced to paste, but… he wasn’t sure how to translate those nebulous wants into actions. I’m on a boat. I need a boat to go places. Dis Bill guy, he’s probably a scientist if he’d be interested in me – do I wanna go right into another lab?

  A moment’s self-examination found that the answer was no, he really didn’t. He’d liked Cinnabar Labs well enough and was sad it’d been blown up, but now that he could look up into the endless blue sky it would be… stifling, to go back to a place like the one he’d been born in.

  So less than a second after agreeing, he reversed. “Wait. No – I wanna stay here.”

  Gorgy frowned harder. “Ain’t askin’ yer permission, kitty. I’m da Captain; my ship, my rules. We ’s makin’ landfall in Goldenrod, tellin’ ya was just court’sy. Dat’s all, scram.” A shooing gesture accompanied the verbal dismissal, but Meowth stood his ground.

  “I wanna stay. I was made to fight; I’ll fight fer you.”

  The scent of annoyance wafted from the pirate’s pores. “Yer a little talkin’ cat, kitty. Wadda you gonna do, try ‘n Scratch another ship what’s tradin’ cannonballs wit’ us? Nah, ain’t happenin’.” Then he frowned even harder as Meowth continued to stand, his own sour look building, and Gorgy’s words became harder to understand as anger loosened his tongue. “You got wax in yer ears, boy? I know you’s smart enough ta hear get out when I says it – so get out.”

  The two stared at each other, teeth bared and claws extended – metaphorically, for one of them; Gorgy’s hand was caressing the air above the two Pokéballs holstered at his waist. Meowth didn’t know why, but the more he pushed back the more he wanted to push back. “I’m smart. I can use a cannon, ‘nd read a map. And I’m a Pokémon, so I’m stronger ‘n yer crew, too.”

  The large man sniffed. His anger was half put-on – but that meant it was half real, so it was entirely possible Meowth was about to be given an involuntary bath.

  “Bullshit, kitty. Youse a baby, and I ain’t even considerin’ takin’ ya on as crew. So-”

  “I’ll prove it,” the cat interrupted. “Gimme a week more ta learn – the cannons or the maps or whatever, just pick something. I’ll be as good as anybody.”

  Gorgy’s ruddy face split in something close to amusement, the annoyance still there but hidden underneath. “Cheeky cat. Yer lucky yer a right unique little charm. Fine – but I don’t wanna hear no cryin’ or bellyachin’, ya landlubber of a ‘mon.”

  For four years Meowth learned the trade of piracy. Three of those were during the war – the Indigo War, Indigo being the name of the continent the two countries were fighting over – and as such, he got very good at shooting a cannon.

  He also got good at reading a map, reading the stars, and reading the code-talk that both Kanto and Johto occasionally sent.

  He also learned the difference between a pirate and a privateer, and why the crew considered themselves to be both; the Cloud Bullion wasn’t strictly loyal to one side or the other, only their money. When Kanto paid, they fought for Kanto. When Johto paid, they fought for Johto.

  And when they weren’t being paid, they fought whatever looked juiciest – which turned into a permanent state in 1993, when the war ended. “Contact offa da port!” Meowth called down, squinting at the shape centred in the telescope’s lens. “Looks like a freighter. Jus’ da one – easy pickin’s.”

  “Freighter, eh?” Gorgy mused from below, the combination of his booming voice and Meowth’s ears meaning the cat could hear him just fine from the crow’s nest. “Lotta’ dem around lately. Suppose trade must be boomin’ – good opportunity fer honest workin’ men, aye.” The words were wry; despite having more soft trader ships dotting the seas than during the war years, things were actually starting to turn lean.

  No war meant no pay, plus all the gunships that had previously been tied up killing each other were free to guard their defenseless cargo hauling sisters; this was the first time in a long time they’d spied something without an escort. “Yer sure it’s jus’ da one, kitty?”

  “Jus’ da one,” he sent down. “Colours say Silph Co. Low on da water.” Which means heavy wit’ loot.

  A few moments, and then the captain issued his order. “Battle stations, boys! We’ll be eatin’ well ‘r nary at all tonight!”

  Real fighting, real battles, weren’t anything like the lab. Not understanding that had gotten Meowth more than one brush with death near the start, but he’d adapted.

  It never started quite the same way twice, but there were patterns; first came the cannons, then the Pokémon, then the dirty knife-fighting of taking the target before they sank – or repelling boarders and fleeing before the Bullion sank, sometimes.

  This fight didn’t deviate from that pattern; the first sign the enemy ship got that they were in danger was a distant boom, followed by a much closer one as a ball of solid iron smashed right above their waterline.

  Bullseye, Meowth thought with satisfaction as the freighter began taking water. Two more shots rang out from the other cannons – two hits, and they reloaded. Three more shots, making six hits in total-

  And then the Pokémon battle part of the fight started as the sea suddenly became rough, Whirlpools and Surfs and Waterfalls being exchanged between the two ships, the gunners’ aims were fouled by both the moves themselves and the intense rocking they caused. Meowth quickly pulled his cannon inside and secured the gunport shut – one octillery squirming inside had been enough for him to learn that lesson.

  He ascended to the deck with his fellow gunners, Krait and Ripley, the wood rocking under his paws the whole way, and then the three of them got down to the part they all hated the most: standing behind the crewmembers with seafaring Pokémon, waiting to see if they’d won or lost.

  Because until they closed to boarding range, they were useless. It was all up to the water and flying types battling it out on the sea to secure passage; if the ship tried to wade in too quick, they'd be sunk in the crossfire. So all they could do was watch, circling, attempting to avoid the worst of the waves and other attacks.

  Dey got a gyarados, Meowth noted with trepidation. Red. Unlucky fer us, dat. Gordy’s oversized tentacruel and quick, darting pikipek were engaging it, but despite their enemy lacking cannons entirely they were proving themselves to be far from defenceless – the Cloud Bullion could still lose this one. Bigger crew means more Pokémon – prob’ly some ex-soldiers on dere too.

  But the pirates were veteran fighters too, and things were scrappy – and, again, there were the six big holes in the freighter’s side to consider.

  The Cloud Bullion could afford to fight defensively; its victim had to win fast or not at all.

  A minute, then another, red beams criss-crossing the expansive battlefield as the trainers on both sides tried to outmanoeuvre each other. It really wasn’t like a test battle; there were no rules, Pokémon being pulled away from attacks and sent right back out to gang up on whoever looked weakest. Defeated monsters were back in the fight within seconds as their masters burned Potion after Potion in desperation. And despite witnessing it dozens of times, Meowth could only wince and grit his teeth, impotence translating to anger.

  “Oi,” came a sudden cry, snapping him alert. “Floir incoimin,” Ripley said, pointing upwards.

  “Pelipper!” Krait added – somewhat redundantly, as the bulky Pokémon was very visible despite the miniature rainstorm it was dragging with it.

  Meowth’s claws made sinister sounds as they scraped against each other, and in moments he was joined by the chittering of a black-furred raticate and the low growl of a herdier. “Dummy. Tinks ‘e can help ‘is buddies by cuttin’ da head offa da snake, eh?”

  Three smiles showed what they all thought of that idea, and in moments the air was cut by a Pay Day and two crackling Thunderbolts.

  They won. It was close, but close wasn’t enough; the Bullion sailed away with all the expensive consumer nonsense it could carry, the freighter disappearing under the waves as its crew looked on from their inflatable rubber liferafts. It was a good haul, enough to keep them for months if some other seadog didn’t rob them in turn.

  In the aftermath of their victory was a veritable feast, and after that Meowth slept soundly – for a time. But gradually, as the night wore on, he began to toss and turn in his hammock, an entranced whisper just barely passing through his lips.

  “New Island… Mewtwo…”

  It didn’t quite live up to the thing in his dreams.

  New Island was a small-ish spot of land off the western edge of Route 21, closer to Pallet than Cinnabar but not visible from either’s coast.

  Meowth had seen it a thousand times in the distance during the war years, but never up close; the thing was loaded to the gills with artillery set up to keep people like them from getting close to Kanto’s breadbasket.

  Or rather, it had been that. Now it was basically invisible, covered by a perpetual squall that caused a near-solid wall of water to pour over a perfectly circular border around the elevated platform of land. It had started months ago, and the consensus within the dwindling population of the Seafoam Sea’s pirates was that the Articuno had probably set up a nest there.

  But according to Meowth’s dreams, it wasn’t the Articuno – no, it was something much more dangerous than that befeathered natural disaster.

  ‘Come,’ the masculine voice of his nightmares had said a hundred times, seeming to repeat every time the Pokémon closed his eyes. ‘Come to my New Island, my New Kingdom. Come, brothers and sisters, members of the superior race, and find shelter – for the world of man and Pokémon shall soon be washed away, undone so that a new order may rise.’

  ‘The reign of Mewtwo begins now. Join me, or perish as a slave to the old world.’

  It should have sounded silly – heck, it had sounded silly when he’d had to repeat it to the captain. Who even talked like that? But that deep and resonating voice made it real, and the fact that it was reaching him across the ocean told Meowth that the clone who’d blown up his home hadn’t become weaker over time.

  Unlike some ’a us, he thought bitterly. “New Island on da horizon! Stormy seas all-round!”

  His observation drew a grumble from the humans below, but it was quickly stomped out as Gorgy’s wooden leg slammed down on the deck. “Quiet you lot! Kitty, I’m ‘a ask it da once more and again: you’re all sure this’s more ‘n a nightmare? Cuz if’n we sail through dat cantanker ‘f a storm ‘n come on out face-ta-face wit’ Storm hisself, I’mma be hangin’ yer head up on da wall ‘o me office b’fore we all die!”

  Meowth nodded, though of course none of the men could see. “I sees da towers. ‘S all dere, windmill ‘n everyting.”

  It wasn’t exactly like the visions that interrupted his sleep; the dream lacked the heavy rain, and so the great ovular towers were rather more visible. As seen through a telescope, New Island looked more a gloomy old spectre than shiny utopia – but the shapes were the same, and the great squall reinforced the second part of the dream, where waters rose up and crashed over everything.

  No, it wasn’t just a recurring nightmare; Mewtwo was deadly serious about killing literally everything, and Meowth…

  Honestly, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he was trying to do. Stop the powerful clone, somehow? How would that even happen?

  By fighting him? Convincing him? Begging with Meowth’s tail between his legs?

  Or was he braving the storm to… join him? Because that sure seemed a lot more likely to work than shooting a half-powered Pay Day into the super-clone’s face and hoping he had a secret weakness to magically-propelled coins. Not even da full attack no more… Not dat it’d work if it was.

  Mood souring further as they went, Meowth listened to the ruckus from below as the rest of the crew tied everything down in preparation of entering a truly awful tempest. In desperation he attempted to activate a simple Scratch, hoping the stress would trigger something like an emergency evolution and set him free – but it wasn’t to be; as had started happening lately, the attack was no longer automatic.

  The pattern failed to form naturally, the swirling constellation of energy flowing through the clone’s body increasingly gummed up by something other, an energy that he had neither a name for nor the ability to control. Like he was learning the move from scratch – hah – he needed to drag it into the proper form completely manually, a process that took long seconds and left him drained.

  Meowth looked away from the rapidly-approaching downpour to examine his claws, glistening with a subtle sheen like they’d been oiled. Hah, he laughed again inside his head. Useless. We was supposed to be better ‘n normal Pokémon, but I guess dat came wit’ an expiration date. So much fer da ‘superior race…’

  A bellow from below bid him to hop down from his perch, and the cat went. He cast one last look on the roiling clouds quickly eclipsing the otherwise clear sky, and then he dipped down below, firmly closing the door as he went.

  While his paws did the automatic work of tying him to a beam, his mind sent out something like a prayer. Arcus, or Arceus, or whatever yer name is… If yer really out dere, maybe gimme a little sign? Just so’s I know we ain’t walkin’ inta-

  The ship hit the unnatural circle of Mewtwo’s territory, and the first wave nearly sent them vertical. As he screamed with the rest of the crew, only the rope around his waist keeping him from being dashed against the walls, Meowth reached a conclusion.

  If that was the sign he’d asked for, it was a bad one.

  The persian listened with half an ear as Jessie and James told the story of their meeting. Most of him was in an even further past, reminiscing on the year he’d spent on New Island.

  Reuniting with the other clones. Having to beg and plead with the then-evolved Abratwo to let the human crew live. The growing dread as he’d realised there was no convincing Mewtwo to stop…

  The Three Heavenly Birds appearing just as the storm reached its crescendo. Mewtwo’s victory, and subsequent defeat when Mew itself appeared alongside two other great birds…

  Feels like a fairytale, even dough I’m da one dat lived it. His humans had skimmed over those parts in favour of the aftermath – the part they were actually there for – but in Meowth’s mind that was only the very end of the story, a cool-down epilogue to more smoothly lead into a sequel. Same author, differn’t genre. Went from epic save-da-world action ta a boots-on-da-ground crime drama. Ha.

  “And you ain’t pullin’ me leg?”

  He cringed at his own question; Meowth had followed the two humans all the way to the mainland, drifting on a film of half-numb awe as much as water. If they were planning to double-cross him, then it wasn’t like they’d come clean now.

  It felt like the dumbest question he’d ever asked.

  But the humans took it at face value. “Oh no,” said James, the man, as he affixed a painfully fake moustache in place. “Not at all! Team Rocket will be incredibly interested in a talking meowth!”

  “And the Storm of the Century, of course,” Jessie, the woman, tacked on. She was also affixing a fake moustache atop her lip, but hers was admittedly more realistic. “We might even finally make Agent for this! James, where are the rest of our disguises?”

  “Er…” A beat of silence as the man rummaged around in the hollow of the tree they were camped under. “It should be right here…”

  “James.”

  “You saw me stash it! Don’t act like it’s my fault it’s not here!”

  Meowth watched – and heard, to the displeasure of his ears – the two break down into bicking, most of their words going over his head as the degradation of his Kantonese asserted itself. Ya spend one year talkin’ wit’ other Pokémon… Though honestly, the larger number of years spent near-exclusively in the presence of pirates who barely spoke the language themselves was probably as much to blame. Gotta work on dat…

  Or… did he? The humans weren’t even looking at him; it would be the easiest thing in the world to take a few steps into the brush, to where the supply cache had been dragged away by a wild Pokémon – a hoothoot, according to the smell – pillage some supplies, and simply be on his way.

  He could try… to live as a Pokémon. Like Mew had suggested.

  But no, his lip curled at the thought. Abratwo had turned into an unbelievable asshole over the years, but he’d had a few good lines before teleporting away. “I am no mere beast,” the kadabra had stated as a white glow enveloped the other clones, Mew’s power lifting them gently into the air. “You expect me to accept defeat, retreat to a cave and allow the world to pass me by? No. I am Abratwo, a man, a genetically superior being, and I refuse to devolve. Do as you will; I wash my hands of all of you.”

  …Okay, so the superior stuff was bunk, but Meowth agreed with the gist of it. He didn’t feel like living somewhere like Cerulean Cave; if he was going to be cooped up where he couldn’t see the sky, the least he was willing to accept was running water and a stove.

  So instead of fleeing off into the forest, he raised his voice. “Oi! Ya maroons, yer stuff’s right over dere! Landlubbers, I swear…”

  James blinked, while a vein pulsed in Jessie’s forehead as she yelled back. “Did you just call me a maroon?!”

  The journey was fraught – not dangerous, but definitely fraught. Despite being ‘super secret criminal masterminds’ the two humans he’d allied himself with seemed to be barely capable of tying their shoes.

  …Well, that was maybe a bit harsh. They'd have probably done pretty well in Gordy’s crew; their koffing and ekans were trained well enough, and they could scrounge with the best of them. The path between Pallet and Viridian had been a long slog filled with itchy disguises and an improbable number of run-ins with wild Pokémon, but Meowth couldn’t deny that it had been… fun, just a bit.

  But now they were at their destination, a very large building with ‘Viridian City Pokémon Gym’ painted across its entrance. Gym… Dat’s where trainers go to do dere tournament stuff, right? His understanding of human culture was basically nil when divorced from secret military labs or pirate ships; the one time he’d been in a city had been leaving Cinnabar five years ago. Lotta people runnin’ about. Whatever dey do here, ‘s popular.

  He scratched under his fake moustache as they went through the large entrance, cursing the sticky glue that he just knew would be impossible to get out of his fur. “Dis da place? Looks fancy.”

  “It is!” James exclaimed. “Just wait until you see the private areas, they’re first class!”

  “A bath,” Jessie croaked. She, unlike her partner, was in low spirits. “My immortal soul for a bath…”

  James scoffed. “In a minute. We have to make our report first! Think of the promotion!”

  Up some stairs, through a door – and Meowth’s eyes widened. Wow. Blue-hair wasn’t kiddin’. They were in an office, but it was unlike any example of the room he’d ever seen.

  If he had to draw comparisons, the researchers’ rooms way back in the distant past were the closest; full of loose papers, with a desk and some chairs and tall bookshelves. But unlike Meowth’s memories of Cinnabar Labs, this office was gilded. If Gordy saw dis, he’d try ‘n pry da paint offa da walls. He was almost gaping, saved from that embarrassment only by the sticky adhesive pulling on his lips if his jaw widened too much.

  The woman behind the desk – red-haired, like Jessie, though this human was older and chunkier – gave the trio a stern look. “Who are- oh for heaven’s sake, you two.” Her voice was harsh and dark, but not particularly forceful – it brought to mind the last moment of dusk before it turned to night, dark purples bleeding into black. “Why do you insist on coming here in those ridiculous getups? We are attempting to run a serious enterprise.”

  With a sharp motion Jessie removed her moustache, doffing the rest of her disguise at the same time. “It’s important to practice! We’re going to be Agents soon, after all!”

  “Indeed!” James exclaimed, following suit – or rather unsuiting, as it were. “Forgive us, but I hope we can skip the chit-chat for a moment; our mission went absolutely stunningly!”

  The woman frowned, the mild expression masking a larger amount of seething annoyance that stood out from the tenseness of her shoulders and the scent of her sweat. “Fine.” She returned to her seat. “Report, then – and who’s this? Did you drag some sailor all this way?”

  Meowth blinked. Wow. Didn’t think my disguise was any better ‘n dere’s… Maybe I’ve just got more discern’in eyes? Or more probably, she dismissed the fur and small stature as mere oddities, rather than evidence of a walking, talking meowth. Gotten dat reaction before, heh.

  “Meowth’s da name,” he preempted the other two. “‘Nd I’d say I’m more of’a pirate dan a sailor, dough dat’s kinda splittin’ hairs. Pleased to meet’cha.”

  He removed his hat and white captain’s coat – how Jessie and James had found one in his size, he was only now thinking to question – and was satisfied at the shock the human woman expressed. The moustache stayed on for now; he didn’t feel like pulling half his fur off along with it.

  She gaped, mouth open twice as large as his own had been on entering. Rarer ‘n a little gold plating on yer desk, eh? But she mastered herself quickly, the surprise folded away under professionalism. “Grunts, explain.”

  The story was entertaining, mostly by way of Jessie and James miming their way through the more dramatic bits. Despite having lived it a few days ago, Meowth couldn’t help but feel like the massive slugfest between legendary Pokémon had been something akin to a dream – just like seeing Mewtwo for the first time, he had no doubt it would fade into a strange, alternatingly exaggerated and overly-subdued retelling in his memories, some moments writ large while others glossed themselves over.

  They concluded with the three of them rowing away from the smouldering ruins of New Island, skipping the rest of the trip entirely, and the woman sat for a moment in deep contemplation.

  “If even a tenth of that is true-”

  “It’s all true!” “We saw the Ho-oh bring everyone back to life!” “There may or may not have been time travel involved!” “It was extremely traumatising!”

  “-Then I think I need to send this upstairs. One moment…” She pressed a button on a machine – a telephone? Meowth vaguely remembered having seen one be used in the labs – and then picked up a crescent-shaped bit on a cord. “Giovanni…”

  Jessie and James squealed to each other as the woman spoke in the background. “James!” Jessie said, whisper-shouting. “The Boss!”

  “The Boss!” her partner agreed, and the two hugged so hard Meowth swore he could hear their ribs buckling.

  A minute later and they were ushered out of the room, Ariana – whose name he’d finally learned courtesy of the static-y voice on the other end of the machine – leading them across the massive building.

  Jessie and James were excited, in a way he wanted to label kitten-like, while Meowth himself was… mixed. There was trepidation, and annoyance, and yes, a little excitement bleeding off the other two. “Can ya can da waterworks for a sec? Yer actin’ like Arcus hisself came down an’ put a crown on yer heads.”

  “We’ve never seen the Boss in person before!” James hissed.

  “We are so getting a bonus!”

  Another trip through what Meowth was increasingly certain was some sort of sports stadium refitted into a castle, and then Ariana stopped in front of a door. It wasn’t much different from the one leading to her office, but there was an air of menacing anticipation nonetheless – at least for him.

  “Tell him exactly what you told me,” the secretary ordered. “Actually no; cut the embellishments. There’s no way you made it through in a canoe. However embarrassing the real story is, tell it properly.”

  She all but pushed them into the room while ignoring Jessie’s protests, and Meowth took a second to examine the room while the humans picked themselves up.

  It was… more normal, actually. Fancy, yes, with red felt everywhere, but the overt luxury that Ariana’s office had smashed into his face wasn’t present. It was just a large room, tiles of dark marble and a desk of equally dark wood, the man behind it-

  Meowth’s heart missed a beat. Dat’s impossible. Dere’s no way – what’re da odds?

  The man behind the desk was familiar; Meowth had seen him in his nightmares for years, standing tall and immovable while the cat’s home had blown apart around him. Facing down Mewtwo without flinching, the same smile he wore now placed on a slightly younger face.

  The real Giovanni was slightly less imposing than the imaginary memory, but that essence, that immovable aura that said I am in charge was, if anything, even stronger than the theatre Meowth’s brain had turned that day into. His face was sharp but masculine, a narrow nose set between large, heavy-browed eyes and a squared jaw. There was something sinister to the perfect black of his irises, nearly impossible to separate from his pupils.

  He wore a suit of a more moderate black felt, a match for his hair, and a smile that was almost blinding in its ego. “So,” he said, and Meowth got the feeling the word was directed more at him than the man’s own underlings. “My Chief Executive tells me you’ve encountered an… old acquaintance.” The smile widened, exposing his teeth, and a shiver that was half fear and half recognition went down the Pokémon’s spine like icy sea spray. He sounds like Mewtwo, just a little. “Tell me everything… My three newest Rocket Agents.”