World-Breaking and Mind-Building [Closed, Complete]

[replicat]

Characters: Mewtwo, Zetsu
Setting: Greenhouse, Maid's Hallway.
Time: Day 003, Later Afternoon (After the thread with Yukimi)
Summary: Mewtwo finds something that surprises him.
Warnings: Mewtwo.

Comments

[weeatbodies]

Zetsu nodded again. [It's called that because the style I fight with is localized within it; very few from the rest of the world are trained in such things.] He listened attentively to the explanation, expression darkening a little with the beginnings of sympathetic anger as he considered the implications of such a thing. Being born in a laboratory meant being an experiment, meant being less than human, meant being some project at the whims of whoever was in charge of your creation.... It meant the sort of things Orochimaru had done, that the rest of Konohagakure had condemned him so heavily for. The sort of things that he wouldn't have minded so much if it were voluntary experiments, or even (though he disliked that option as well, perhaps because that was a fate that awaited so damned many of his countrymen) prisoners of war....

But for someone to be born into a laboratory, to not have a choice, to not deserve it.... That was an entirely different matter, and it quite frankly sickened him. Mewtwo wasn't some mindless beast, some

[replicat]

Mewtwo landed. It wasn't a very common thing for him to do, and not one he did when he didn't plan to be someplace for a while, but he was going to expend less power in order to keep a better reign on himself. For now. His hands remained fists, however.

[...I see.] He'd said much the same thing to the human earlier and he'd just gotten the same response from Zetsu, but he had been given a lot to think about on both accounts and he needed time to process it. He stared at Zetsu long and hard. So this Pokémon was a specialised fighter... Mewtwo could understand that and was inherently curious about what it entailed. Now was not the time, however, and he cast such thoughts aside like so much rubbish. He'd deal with them later. [The master of this house is leaving you notes, playing with you... this is a game, then.] That was the only conclusion, and it made Mewtwo even angrier. More than the video game, more than being trapped or controlled, the very notion that he was being played with infuriated the Pokémon beyond any human words. [And

[weeatbodies]

Even on the ground, Mewtwo was impressively tall; Zetsu stared back at him, this time meeting his gaze calmly as his own anger simmered down. [There is no master of the house.] He corrected Mewtwo, quietly but firmly, managing to keep his frustration to a surprisingly low key in his mental voice. [None that we've been able to find, at least--and I and others have combed this house room by room for days, and found nobody who could claim ownership of it. The notes are from people who were trapped here before--people who are now ghosts and probably monsters, as well. Clues, warnings, maybe their own private musings--we're not always sure what exactly they are, but we still try to make sense of them. We're not sure if they're from when the people were alive still, or already dead or monstrous, of if there's a mixture.He shook his head, again trying to force his frustration down and project some sense of calm to Mewtwo, the steadiness of mind and resolve of one who had a purpose, and who wouldn't allow themselves to get distracted by their

[replicat]

......

Mewtwo stared at Zetsu, only it was a different kind of stare this time. It was a stare that defied Zetsu to challenge him, one that dared the other Pokémon to push his luck. This had been done before? Notes from people formerly trapped? Mewtwo closed his eyes to keep a rein on his temper. There was a lot in what had just been said, but it would take him a while to fully comprehend the details. People turned into monsters or ghosts, a supposedly ownerless house... to Mewtwo, traps, puzzles, and games were all the same thing, and all equally infuriating. They were also all equally beneath him. [Let me see these notes then,] he commanded Zetsu, opening his eyes again with a new sense of determination. [I will make sense of them. Then we may leave.]

[weeatbodies]

Zetsu recognized the look in Mewtwo's eyes. It was the sort he knew Zetta could have turned on in a moment's notice, the sort Sasori and Pein could and did wear when the situation demanded it. It was the look of challenge and command, of defiance, of power--not many who used it didn't have the stones to back it up. And so Zetsu did what any sensible subordinate would do; he deliberately held Mewtwo's gaze for a moment longer, then dropped his eyes submissively, leaves curling a little closer around his shoulders and head--he had his dignity, that much was obvious, but it was also perfectly clear that he had no intention whatsoever of challenging Mewtwo, or his implied dominance. He didn't know if he could, for one thing, and secondly, he didn't think it'd be worth it

[replicat]

After being satisfied that Zetsu was going to do what he was told, Mewtwo took the notes, though not with his hands--instead, he took hold of the stack them telekinetically, limming the sheets in blue light as they rose into the air under his power and spreading them out in front of him so that he could see all of them at once and rearrange them clearly for organisation.

His eyes narrowed.

They were too scattered. Rearranging several of the notes in the pattern before him, Mewtwo tried to make some kind of reasonable sense out of them, to glean some sort of (even superficial) meaning, but it was... simply madness.

He had all of them here in front of them, but all he could see was madness. He rearranged them some more, trying to find a pattern, a meaning behind even one of the notes, but all he could see was clear insanity. Frustration mounted. [Is this all of them?] he asked after a tense silence, pulling the unpunctuated and jumbled notes away from the main group to get a better look at them. From the looks of these, Zetsu might

[weeatbodies]

Zetsu watched silently, hands clasped loosely before him as Mewtwo worked, and nodded at the question. Well, he didn't seem to be having much luck, either; that was definitely a shame, though at least he had tried. [Those are all that I know of. If there are others, then someone else would have gotten to them first.] Because he'd searched the house damned thoroughly with Mio; it was an important job, after all. And considering just how early they had gotten up.... Well, he found it fairly unlikely that too many others would have been gotten to before he could--wait.... [But I know of one other that I never got to see; one of the other residents ruined it just as I was getting there.]

Oh, and then there was the matter of the ghosts.... [There was also a note on the floor of the bedroom with only a mattress in it--at first it said "stay out tonight", then changed to "stay tonight" while myself and a friend were still in the room, with no sign of any disturbances. That night, the room attempted to crush any who stayed inside it, with a

[replicat]

...

Mewtwo gave a mental sigh (really an affectation, as of course his brains didn't breathe any more than anyone else's) and let go of the notes, closing his eyes angrily as the papers fluttered the ground. [I see.] He'd been saying that a lot today. It irritated him--no, more than that, it left him frustrated and needlessly angry. If he was the only one here with his level of power, it was possible he would catch things others had missed, but right now he was somehow... outclassed. It was inconceivable, but that's how it seemed to appear, even though it was essentially impossible. Who knew, maybe something was more powerful than he was. Changing notes in the middle of the day...? He could do that. But with such an incorporeal concept of the cage (he needed details), Mewtwo found himself more uselessly and unspecifically angry at Zetsu himself everything than anything. He'd have to keep control of that. If he could. But for all he knew, that damaged note was the one that would allow his advanced mind to put things together. If

[weeatbodies]

Zetsu bent to gather the notes by hand, presuming that they would need them again; he'd already submitted to Mewtwo, so bending down before him didn't really seem like that big of an issue. [Her name is Anita Blake. A perfume bottle was broken, and it was soaked beyond recovery.] They were tucked back into his cloak for later scrutiny, as he presumed they would indeed be needed at some point. Keep all the clues you had safe, and work on gathering new ones.... wasn't that all they really could do, until they had something to really go off of? [I'm not exactly sure--there are a great many here, but plenty that I haven't yet met. I would say at least three dozen, and probably more. Most are human, though not all.]

[replicat]

Perfume? Ugh, humans... well, there was nothing he could do about it now.

[So there are both humans and Pokémon...] Mewtwo mulled over that prospect pensively. How many humans here were also trainers? Not all of them, certainly--the human he'd just spoken to hadn't been one, he'd been from another world (one where Mewtwo was a character in a video game) and even in his 'world' there were plenty of nontrainer humans; it was entirely possible that none of the humans here would be, actually, although that idea was patently ridiculous and he discarded it outright. Well, he threw it aside, at any rate. Over three dozen... nearly two score, basically, and none of them had figured this out. How was such a thing possible? He would have to resign himself to working with inferior intelligences... a frustrating prospect at best. [What other Pokémon have you seen?] It would be good to get an inventory of that, size and type, perhaps take a study of the types and personalities present. Or abilities. Mewtwo demanded as much data as possible to

[weeatbodies]

Humans and what? Zetsu had, quite frankly, never heard of that word before. Was it some term that meant non-humans or animals in Mewtwo's world? He wasn't sure, but now seemed a better time than any to ask. [.....I'm not sure. What are are pokémon?] Maybe if he knew that, he could offer some sort of answer.... Until then, though, he would just be a little confused. It was kind of amusing, in its own ridiculous way; Zetsu and Mewtwo each knew about their own respective areas, and each was confusing each other while trying to share information....

The situation was a little absurd, but he was willing to take it in stride as long as Mewtwo could control his temper. He wasn't sure of the full extent of Mewtwo's abilities, beyond flying, telepathy, and apparent telekinesis--but he knew instinctively that he did not want to find himself on the wrong end of Mewtwo's ire, and that to stay on his good side while in such close quarters was imperative.

[replicat]

[...?] Mewtwo's expression shifted to one of confusion. [What are Pokémon?] he echoed, stunned--the powerful psychic was taken off guard by the unexpected question. [I am a Pokémon,] Mewtwo stated with definitive firmness, but he didn't clarify the definition for Zetsu. Mewtwo was the consummate Pokémon, the most powerful and completely designed Pokémon of them all--to say he was a Pokémon was to overstate the common types as a species, but it was the ultimate truth. [Are you not a Pokémon yourself?] he demanded, staring dangerouslyy at the biped in front of him. Was Zetsu not as he seemed? Mewtwo was suddenly uncertain. In his world, there were two kinds of being, completely distinct from one another but eternally interconnected (except where exempt... but even he could not fully escape the strings of humanity). There was no middle ground, no crossing of lines between Pokémon and human... no, that was untrue, but there were certainly no creatures outside of those categories, and Mewtwo was determined to find the source of this

[weeatbodies]

Zetsu looked him over carefully at the minimal characteristic, but aside from how admittedly impressive Mewtwo was in his own right, he could not figure out any sort of distinct characteristic that would make a pokémon.... well, a pokémon. He knew that Mewtwo was one, but little else. [I don't think I am.] He admitted, holding up his hands peaceably as though to try and forestall any lashing out or outburst. [I've never heard the term before.] How could he tell Mewtwo what he was when he had never been sure of the answer himself?