Emotion Detector

Today had been a long day for Blaine and his team.

Three hours of training, the distribution of thirty Burn Heals to wayward trainers, and stopping three stupid teenagers from getting too close to the mouth of the volcano later, they were all beat. But such was the senior man's job on Cinnabar; he was much more than a gym leader. He took care of the island and its people… even the idiotic tourists who liked volcanoes despite knowing nothing about them. At least, though, he could always take comfort in the fact that his loyal team of Pokémon would always be smarter than the brass teenagers who strive for his Volcanobadge.

It was mid-afternoon now, warmer in the sun but cool in the shade of the trees. The gym leader and his team lounged in a grassy clearing, a surprisingly flat space near the base of the mountain. Blaine rested his back against his Rapidash and looked over at his companions. Not far away, his Arcanine, young and arrogant but loyal to the end, snored loudly. A Growlithe snoozed on top, not seeing to notice its moving up and down with the Arcanine's breathing. Curled up next to the huge canine was Ninetales. She wasn't much of a fighter, but the kitsune had come from a long line that had started back with Blaine's grandfather. Blaine chuckled softly at the thought. Her line was turning out to be one of show dogs, not fighters. Not exactly practical for the owner of one of the toughest teams in Kanto.

The amusement faded as, the thought reminded Blaine of his latest addition to the family. Several meters from the group, leaned up against a tree, sat the only non-fire type he'd ever trained. Mewtwo, the Genetic Pokémon, a deliberate anomaly in the scheme of life, rested with arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. The Psychic, if not reluctantly at first, had eventually become part of the Quizmaster's team. Blaine, of course, did not use the Rocket creation against trainers. In fact, quite contrary to Mewtwo's original purpose, the Psychic seemed reluctant to battle in official circumstances. He trained – maybe even enjoyed the exercises – but against trainers, Mewtwo wouldn't move a muscle.

Mewtwo wasn't fond of his trainer. Blaine knew that, and accepted it as fact. After all, he had captured the Genetic Pokémon essentially against his will with a Master Ball. As much as the man thought he'd been saving the Pokémon from Team Rocket, he knew Mewtwo didn't see it that way. Blaine had been a Rocket scientist. He'd literally helped bring a biological weapon to life. The constant shiver and deterioration of his left arm which signified their biological bond reminded him of this every day.

At least Mewtwo respected him. The gym leader ultimately wanted to break their bondage and set Mewtwo free, but he tried to take advantage of this time. The Psychic harboured amazing capabilities; ones that could even negate his type weaknesses. More than training, though, Blaine sought to socialize him. He suspected the Genetic Pokémon could communicate via telepathy – he just hadn't yet.

Even now, he sat apart from the group. Could just be his personality, the old man mused. But was it nature or nurture?

Underneath him, he felt movement. Blaine redirected his gaze to Rapidash. The fiery equine looked curiously at her trainer, a soft whinny voicing her question. He ran a hand down her flaming mane, trying to reassure her.

"It's nothing," he insisted.

The Rapidash lifted her head sharply and blasted hot air at him, frowning.

Blaine winced at the blast as it made his eyes water. "All right, all right!" He lowered his voice. "It's just…" He nodded in Mewtwo's direction. "I worry about him, and all of you. You're the only family I've got." He gave a ragged sigh and leaned against the horse again. Thank Arceus his challengers nor the Kanto Gym Leader Board saw him like this. They'd think he was getting sentimental in his old age.

Movement off to his right caught his attention – and Mewtwo's as well, it seemed. A tiny Vulpix had scampered towards the group and was now focused on the only Psychic-type in the vicinity. Mewtwo tensed, staring at the auburn fox, ready to bolt in an instant. (Frankly, though, Blaine was just as prepared to spring into action.) The Vulpix, seemingly oblivious to Mewtwo's discomfort, approached and attempted to wriggle its head under the Psychic's paw. The Genetic Pokémon pushed it gently away, but the Vulpix just came back. It whined at him, ears drooping. Again, the fire fox moved under his three-fingered paw, this time successfully.

For Mewtwo's part, he was handling the exchange quite well. They repeated the cycle of him pushing the Vulpix back and it returning a couple more times before it decided it'd had enough. It took a decisive leap and landed squarely on Mewtwo's shoulder. Blaine cringed internally, hand going straight for his Master Ball, because if anything happened to a wild, young Pokémon, he would –

The thought soon proved unnecessary. He was quite sure every hair along the Psychic's spine was on end, but Mewtwo didn't move. He seemed too stunned to give any kind of reaction. When the Vulpix tried to nestle between his neck and connecting cord, he made a face and carefully moved it away. Not there, he seemed to say to the fox. It grew irritated with constantly being moved around and leapt down into Mewtwo's lap. Its mind made up, the Vulpix curled up and was fast asleep in a matter of moments.

Mewtwo regarded his sudden companion with a mix of confused emotions. He looked desperately to Ninetales, who'd been awakened, but she gave no helpful advice. He then turned to Blaine. The old man just smiled and shrugged in response. He'd let the Psychic figure this one out on his own.

The Pokémon eyed Vulpix warily. After several seconds (and seeing the fox was fast asleep), Mewtwo finally settled back against the tree again. One by one, his muscles stopped contracting so tightly. He closed his eyes and laid a paw over the Vulpix to makes sure it wouldn't slip off of his stomach.

Back where he sat, Blaine released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He still kept an eye Mewtwo and the rest of his team, but wasn't so worried anymore. Silently, the gym leader scolded himself. Sure, Mewtwo had some anti-social tendencies and didn't much care for fraternization, but he was still just a Pokémon. Blaine recalled when he'd first tracked down the copy and captured him with Red's help. Mewtwo had been called the "monster of Cerulean City". He'd been raging; untamed; vengeful. Not that anything I'd done helped, Blaine thought guiltily. He only hoped that the Psychic could eventually live in peace, however he liked.

Seeing the product of human ingenuity and greed snoozing with a Vulpix on its stomach, though, gave Blaine a little hope. What would become of his life was up to Mewtwo, the old man knew. All the training and counseling in the world would be pointless if the Psychic chose not to retain any of it. Blaine just hoped this was all for the best.

Mewtwo cracked open an eye and turned it to his trainer. Blaine forced a tiny smile in return in an attempt at reassuring. What else could he do?

And then something happened.

The Pokémon smiled back.

It was just a quick, split-second expression, but it was unmistakable. Mewtwo seemed genuinely content, right here, at this moment. Blaine had no idea why, but it was the first time he'd ever caught Mewtwo appearing even remotely pleased.

As he leaned against his Rapidash and closed his eyes, the gym leader found he couldn't help but keep smiling. After all, all the badges and victories in the world couldn't make up for the feeling that you'd made one of your Pokémon's lives a little brighter.

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The rest of the day had proceeded normally. It had taken a little bit of coaxing and a Rare Candy, but eventually the wild Vulpix went back into the trees. The group had then headed back to the city and arrived at Blaine's by nightfall.

Rapidash was out in her stable, and Arcanine, Growlithe, and Ninetales were curled up together in a separate room. Any other Pokémon Blaine owned were either in their Pokéballs or sleeping elsewhere.

The owner of the place himself was in the gym's laboratory, which was really just a basement. He stood before Mewtwo, going through their nightly ritual of hooking up the Psychic to a number of machines. They were used to measure his heart rate, blood pressure, cellular reproduction levels, and brain activity. A side effect of their unfortunate bondage was instability in Mewtwo's genetic makeup. He was far from the perfect weapon Giovanni had envisioned the copy to be. Since the deterioration had been getting worse, the Pokémon had to be suspended in a fluid, one not unlike the one which he'd been generated in, every night.

Mewtwo tolerated the practice, but neither of them was happy to perform it. As far as Blaine knew, the Psychic was a free spirit, and did not care to be so reliant on a human. They literally needed each other, though, and Mewtwo didn't seem about to commit a double suicide-homicide for freedom. It wasn't a preferable life for either of them, but at least they were still breathing.

Once Blaine had attached the last monitor, he grabbed the oxygen mask. "Ready?" Mewtwo nodded hesitantly. But when the gym leader leaned forward, the Psychic suddenly stopped him.

"Wait – no."

The words existed as a split-second sensation in the back of his mind, but it was enough to make Blaine pause. He stared wide-eyed at Mewtwo. The old man set down the oxygen mask, shocked speechless. Had he just—?

"I need to ask you something," came the voice again. It was pitched somewhere between tenor and baritone, but definitely on the lower end of that spectrum. Blaine had had very little experience with Psychic-types before, so he wasn't quite sure how to react. The words sent shivers up his spine in a way that not even the ice-types his fire was so effective against ever could. It was soft, like a hushed voice afraid to be drowned out by the raging wind.

He cleared his throat to get the lump out of it. "…Go ahead," he replied, trying (and failing) to keep the surprise out of his own voice.

"Why did you capture me?"

It was a simple question. Mewtwo obviously didn't mince his words. Nonetheless, Blaine was taken aback by the question. It had never occurred to him to explain his reasoning to Mewtwo, much less be asked for it. He had always assumed – or so it seemed – that they were in mutual agreement as to "why".

"Well, Mewtwo…" He rubbed his forehead and leaned against a metal table. He'd talked to Mewtwo several times, yes, but never been replied to aside from a subtle nod or shake of the head or other non-verbal cues. It was how he communicated with most of his Pokémon. Of course he could be a little more formal with the Psychic, since he obviously had at least the coherence levels of humans, but to be replied to in common words… It was just a little too bizarre. "You of all know best that our bondage is destructive to both of us, so--"

"No," Mewtwo retorted, a hint of anger and power seeping into that "voice" of his, "I will not tolerate your dancing around a simple question anymore." His features had hardened and paws clenched in irritation. "You feed me obvious answers, Blaine, but all I want is the truth. So, please…" He paused and took a moment to calm himself before looking back at his trainer. "I need to know. I already had one human tell me we were equals and then turn out to be lying. Please prove to me not every human is like that."

Blaine fell silent at the reminder. He and anyone else who'd ever been a scientist for Team Rocket during Mewtwo's era knew how Giovanni had tried tirelessly to gain the experiment's loyalty. They also all knew about the latter's violent revolt – and then the whole reason for Blaine going after him. Standing before him, though, all connected to a series of wires and monitors, Mewtwo appeared even more like a prisoner than he had under Giovanni. All he needed was the ridiculous armour the Rocket leader had designed and they may as well have been standing in Viridian at Giovanni's gym.

"You want the truth?  Then the truth is what you'll get." He gave a bitter smile as he looked back up at Mewtwo. "I captured you because you were my responsibility. I captured you for the sake of my own selfish need for redemption. I couldn't live with myself knowing you were out there ravaging cities while I was hiding out on a sandy beach sipping martinis and battling teenagers. No one else was stepping up to the plate, and if I hadn't gotten you, then either Team Rocket or some idiot with a Master Ball would've. So, yes, I admit, my initial reasons for capturing you were incredibly selfish, now that I think of them. But do I have any desire to use you in battle or otherwise hinder your freedom?" Blaine shook his head. "If you don't know the answer, then your views on humanity are even more twisted than one man could have ever made them."

His eyes narrowed. "On the contrary. Surely you recall the mishap with Lance?"

"As I recall, you were willing and able, maybe even eager, to assist in that matter." Now it was Blaine's turn to be a tad annoyed. "You are not required to obey any order I give you. Now, some might be in your best interest, but I can merely advise you."

"But you admit, at the least, that you train me as you do your team for gym battles."

He arched an eyebrow at the accusation. Their first conversation, and all it seemed Mewtwo wanted to do was antagonize him. "Your abilities are highly underdeveloped right now, but in a year or so they could be twice as effective. I am merely trying to teach you to use them properly." Blaine frowned slightly. "If you go around destroying cities like you were, that's just a green light to Giovanni. He'd have the greatest excuse in the world to re-capture you – and we all know how that went." Mewtwo said nothing, merely stared, so he went on. "This is no picnic for me either. You are my last connection to Team Rocket, and besides, if you haven't noticed, I have very little experience in training Psychics, which doesn't make this any easier. So if you find someone else you can keep you alive and still provide you with decent habitation… be my guest."

For several long moments, only the hum of machines and tension hung about them. Blaine was already starting to regret his words. Red had suggested that if he truly wanted to redeem himself, he needed to show compassion towards the Genetic Pokémon. Standing before him and trying to guilt-trip Mewtwo into thankfulness didn't seem very compassionate. He gave a sigh and started to reach for the oxygen mask. Just as he was about to grasp it, an invisible force moved it just out reach.

"Blaine, I… owe you… an apology."

The old man shot up his head so quickly he worried for a split-second he'd injure his neck. The thought passed and he stared at Mewtwo again. "I – I … No, I was out of line. I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. It was uncalled for, and –"

"No," the Psychic interrupted, "you were right. You have never given me cause to mistrust you. As much as your honesty disturbs me, it is… appreciated." His amethyst eyes flickered away in a moment of – was it shame? Mewtwo hadn't yet ceased to amaze him today. That tiny, sardonic smirk flashed on and off again. "Have you any idea where that genetic trait came from?"

"That would be one of your own," he replied with a return smile.

"A personality trait?"

"What else? Your brain's your own, Mewtwo. Thus why you're in front of me, boring your words into my mind."

Still refusing to meet his trainer's eyes, Mewtwo posed a final question: "I need to know if you meant what you said back on the volcano. About your team being your… family."

"Of course I did."

"Are your intentions not to free me once we are cleared of this bondage?"

"Well…" Blaine gave a ragged sigh. "Of course that is still my plan. But what you need to understand is this…" He stepped up to the tank and looked straight up at the copy. "Until that time, and even after, any Pokémon that comes in frequent contact with me I consider to be family." The fire master rolled up his left lab coat sleeve to reveal his bandaged, deteriorating arm. "This… this is you and I. This is our connection. But even if this is cured, as long as we are both alive, I suspect we shall always be bonded in some way. We have been through too much not to be." Blaine pulled his sleeve down with a shrug. "I'd call that family."

"I suppose so..." Mewtwo was still staring at the man's arm. "And if I leave and never return after our bondage is broken? What will you do then?"

"I won't do anything. It's your life. You're free to do as you like with it."

"I appreciate that."

"For now, though, you're stuck with me, the rest of the team, and that Vulpix that took an interest in you earlier today."

"That proved to be… most interesting."

Blaine chuckled. "I'll bet." He picked up the oxygen mask and stepped up next to Mewtwo. "All right, we've chatted long enough. I've got five battles tomorrow and I know two of the trainers are bringing water-types." After slipping the mask on carefully over the Psychic's muzzle, he stepped back, closed the tank and started the filling of it. The gym leader started away.

"Blaine?"

The telepathy was slightly drained by exhaustion, but he stopped and turned back to his creation.

"Thank you."

He smiled.

That was all he needed to know.