Ancient Blood

[Stirrings of Doom]
[by Shadowed Mewtwo]
[Prologue]



Long ago, Man fought in a Nuclear World War. Bomb after bomb was dropped, until there was none left to attack. Man had killed himself. A few survived, but their homes and other items were destroyed, and the poison affected their minds, so that they forgot how they'd lived. The poison eventually left, but men were few and their lives were harsh. They lived with stone. In caves. Hunting. Searching. Living nomadic lives in a wasteland. Man cried and wept for help, but none came, and he lost hope.

Then, a miracle occurred. Creatures came down from the heavens, flying without wings. Seeing humankind in suffering, they used their strange powers to form helpers for the people. The helpers used their own unnatural skills to help the world heal and thrive again, and Man was thankful. They built shrines to the Cloud People, and grew close to the strangers' creations. Thus the world grew good again. However, Man is easily corrupted, and forgets friends in times of bounty. They grew hostile towards one another again. Seeing the powers of their comrades, they began to train them for battle, using the creatures like weapons.

"67-B-903-142. Code Name: NightTerror." The words crept coldly through night the air like some icy wind. Black lips formed the code a second time, more clearly, when there was no response. The code entered a small speaker. This time, there was a clicking and humming as a machine processed the words, checking them for error. Then, as if it were living, the mesh of metal answered back.

"Entrance granted." A thick metal door then opened, and the speaker walked into blackness. The room was thick with darkness; even more so as the door automatically closed behind the one known as NightTerror. A normal person might be hindered by this, since the room was cluttered, but he was nothing of the sort. With silent steps he wove around boxes and papers, able to see it all without a trace of light. His destination: a single button on the other side.

The Cloud People, which had been renamed the Mew after the cat-like sounds they made, were shocked. As their creations were forced to fight in terrible wars, the Mew took a step in to stop it. They made creatures with god-like powers, shifting the way the very Earth worked so that these beasts were a part of it. They controlled the flames and the earth and the seas and the sky, and their power was as unfathomable as the Mew that formed them. However, these creatures, Legendaries, as they were later known, grew made with their power. They refused to help the Mew, and only made the war more terrible.

The Mew, realizing the mistake they had made, turned to fight the Legendaries. The fights scattered and killed the people again, and separated them from their 'Pokemon,' as they had started to be called. It also threw the world into chaos. The Mew were alarmed to find themselves losing, and their numbers were cut down tremendously. Their energy was draining, and they found the Legendary could not be stopped.

NightTerror pushed the button gently with his nose, and blinked as the doors to an elevator opened, bathing him in light. Daintily he walked in, and hissed the floor he desired to be on. Still as stone, he watched as the doors closed before him and the elevator began to rise.

Stripes of light and dark flashed across his midnight face as he rose through floors to his destination. The elevator moved smoothly and silently, while above its doors a screen blinked the floor number. 3456 It rose higher and higher, to the uppermost level. There, it glided to a halt, and with a small ping!, the door opened.

Thus, in a last attempt to save everything they'd so carefully made, the Mew created more Legendaries: specifically Lugia and Ho-oh. These they taught wisdom and gave immortality, so that the Legendaries could be peacemakers and guardians forever. Then, they went out, and used the last of their strength to drain the energy from the Legendaries. The Peacemakers watched as the Mew fell, then went out and gave each Legendary a home and assignment. With wisdom they lead the weakened legendaries to peace. The Mew came back after a time, but they were not the Mew of old. The war had killed the adults and left the children as weakened as the others. These new Mew also showed signs of retardation. They began to fly about the world, playing. Soon what they had done was forgotten by all but the peacemakers.

Man eventually found Pokemon again, and once more forced them to work. However, this time, humans were not at war, and used the Pokemon for fun, comradeship, or physical labor. Later show fights became popular, and the art of Pokemon training began.

He stepped out the elevator and down a long, narrow hallway. Here the air reeked of embalming fluid and other strange chemicals, and a sort of rusty haze hung over the stone floor. The lights were dim; murmurs could be heard behind the walls of the hall. Towards the end of the hallway there sat a door painted black, with a series of numbers written across its center. It was this door he walked to, and sniffed a breeze that flowed steadily out from underneath. It smelled of death and decay.

"12-42-1692桹pen: Name桬bon," said the same cold voice as before. A second speaker took in the voice and processed it. His listened with long black ears to the turning of gears and quiet beeping as the machine as it contemplated carefully whether it should believe him or not. After three or four minutes, the machine finally responded. "Voice scan complete. Welcome Dr. Ebon."

As more and more things were discovered about Pokemon, genetic mutating became popular. At first they were failures, the creations being too weak to survive. However, one day a group of men found a fossil of one of the original Mew. They spliced its DNA with that of a human's, creating the humanoid, super-powered Mewtwo. The fierce yet philosophic Pokemon nearly destroyed the world by himself, but was calmed by the sacrifice of a young boy. Realizing what he could do and what people do to have him, he went into hiding. Still, his existence could not be hidden forever, and soon he was discovered.

When it was found that Mewtwo was far too powerful to capture, organizations like Team Rocket began to mass-produce variations or Mewtwo and Two hybrids in hopes of creating a super army. The new Mewtwo merely escaped and colonized in a hidden valley, where they made their own society of Twos. The first Mewtwo would have nothing to do with them.

Ebon walked into the now open door and strode betwixt bio tubes, each containing its own warped, often dead and rotting, creature. Un-phased by this horrific scene, however, he merely walked up to an Alakazam, who was taking notes before a newer test tube. Within the tube a small creature slept peacefully. {You're late, Professor} grumbled the Alakazam as he studied a computer screen of the creature's health. Ebon showed no sign of discomfort as the voice echoed inside his head. "I was busy, Doctor. I am more than leader of the genetics lab, you know. I cannot give everything to creating new versions of the Guard." {This is more important than any Guard and you know it} "So? What is the cost of me being late by a few minutes?" Ebon snapped back. The Alakazam turned to glare at him.

When the city of Mewtwo, Mewtopia, was discovered, the second Pokemon war began. It ended in the creation of a terrible bioweapon. It was a nameless disease, formed by the Twos from the genes of the space virus Deoxys, to kill the humans for good. It worked perhaps too well. All the people were killed, and the Mewtwo, being part human themselves, also died off. The Pokemon grew dismayed, and many died from sorrow. The Mew, who had been dying off since the first war, also became extinct. The loss of their creators sent the peacemakers into a frenzy, and they began to attack the Legendaries. Their prey overpowered them, however, and killed them off. Then, the Legendaries, without their masters to control them, began to attack each other for greater power. The war was fierce, and ended in the end of the Legendaries. Thus, the common Pokemon were left alone in the world.

This began the third war. The remaining Pokemon fought to divide social classes, until certain types gave up. In the end, the Psychic, Dark, Steel, Dragon, Fire, and Water types able to walk on land became the masters. Other Water types were food, as well as flying and bug types, and the rest were forced into slavery. Only the Eevee and their evolutions were excluded from these rules, all being masters. To keep the slaves in line, Mewtwo were recreated in a weaker state, and controlled with recovered human technology.

{We must begin a new design. This one is unresponsive to any of our tests. It seems to have died since we tried the computer chips.} The Alakazam tossed aside his pad and stared furiously at the still creature. Ebon watched as a blue glow enshrouded the pad and set it neatly on a desk. The glow then covered the bio tube, unhitching it and shoving it aside. {You are the most skilled with the chips. Because of your incompetence we must begin again If you were not an Umbreon I would beat you for this.}

Still, the Mewtwo didn't seem to be enough, and there was rumor of a rebellion brewing. A rebellion that must be ended immediately Thus, the start of the most dangerous experiment ever made had started.

Ebon smiled casually. "Why worry? We have the world's supplies at 'fingertips,' and enough creatures for eternity! Do not stress; we will have our mighty Legendary Maker soon enough" The young Umbreon's rings filled the room with an ice blue luminance as he grinned with dark anticipation.

Yes The most dangerous experiment had begun. The rebels must be stopped, and the slaves put in their rightful place. A clone unlike any other was destined to be born. With it, they would create an army of Legendaries! And this time, the Legendaries would be as controlled as their Mewtwo were.

Ebon's grin darkened at the thought. Letting loose a chuckle deep in his throat, he turned to help the Alakazam install a new bio tube. The newest failed model continued its eternal sleep, as forgotten as its rotting comrades.