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Title, Info, and Chapter of Contents New


  1. espurr
  2. fennekin

"Legendaries are positions, not people."

By day, Ann works as Mew, the glorified secretary for Arceus and the other legendaries of the High Council. By night, she secretly breaks High Council code to enjoy earth sights with the lower-tier legends and mythicals. After she and her friend are kidnapped by Team Rocket, Ann is presented with a choice: Work as a spy for Giovanni in the Hall of Origin, or watch her life crumble around her… by Team Rocket’s doing, or the hand of Arceus himself.

Rated T | Fantasy | Drama | Warnings for choice moments of violence and heavy themes

Table of Contents:

00. Prologue
00 - Prologue New


  1. espurr
  2. fennekin

“Legendaries are positions, not people.”

The espeon stared up in confusion and awe, but mostly confusion. She had been all curled up in a hollow log when a bright flash had woken her from her sleep. Emerging from her hiding place, she had been stunned to see that Arceus himself was floating straight over her resting place.

He was larger than the trees. He shimmered in the air like a mirage, his glow lighting up the area. All life around had fallen silent, leaving only the two of them in the clearing together. Even the wind had stopped blowing. It was like time was frozen around them.

“…W-what?” was all the espeon was able to stammer out.

Arceus deftly laid hoof upon the ground, and bent over until he could reach the crouching espeon’s level.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he said, his voice reverberating around the clearing. “Every legend was an ordinary human or pokemon before I lent them a portion of my power. Right now, a position is open, and I require a replacement: How would you like to be Mew?”

The espeon blinked a couple of times, trying to process what she had just heard.

“…T-this is a dream,” she shakily concluded, turning back to the log. “I’m going back to bed.”

Arceus stamped his hoof, and a shimmering psychic barrier erupted in front of the log’s entrance. “It most certainly is not.”

The espeon stopped short. She raised a paw to the barrier, pressing up against it and realizing it was solid as glass. Shaken, she turned back to Arceus.

“I require an answer from you now,” Arceus said. “Do you accept my offer? Remember that this is once in a lifetime. Millions of ‘mon will live and die without ever being presented with an opportunity such as this.”

When he put it like that, the espeon’s sleep-addled mind found it hard to say no. But one question, one little thing that bugged her about the entire situation, came to the front of her mind.

“Why me?”

“Why not?” Arceus asked in response.

That didn’t feel right.

“You had to have a reason,” the espeon said.

“Dare you question my judgement?” Arceus’ demeanor suddenly changed. Now, he stared down at the espeon with anger, and the aura of power around him felt different, foreboding. The espeon leaped back with a yelp of fear.

“Answer me,” said Arceus, returning to his usual stance. The foreboding energy lifted.

“…I-I accept?” the espeon offered up in slight fear.

“Is that your final decision?” Arceus asked. “Know that there will no going back. Not truly.”

When the espeon felt a sudden flicker of doubt flash across her mind, he stamped his hoof into the ground with a deafening crash. “Answer me!”

“I accept!” the espeon shouted, loud enough to match Arceus in volume.

Arceus stood back up to his full height, a solemn expression coming over his face. He towered over the espeon.

“So be it.”

Another stamp of Arceus’ hooves, and bright pink power swirled out of his chest. It materialized into the form of a radiant pink orb that lay on the ground in front of the espeon. She squinted; it was too bright for her to look at in the middle of the night.

“Lay your paw upon the orb.”

The espeon stuck her paw out to place upon the orb, but suddenly her mind caught up with her body. What was she doing? Some pokemon claiming to be Arceus showed up at her burrow, made her an offer she was still trying to wrap her head around, and she was just going along with it? Her paw retracted a little in doubt.

Even so… that barrier had been real enough. And it wasn’t like she had anywhere else to go, not like she had anything left to lose. She might as well go through with it.

The orb began to shine brightly, so bright she couldn’t even look at it anymore, and then the clearing lit up radiant pink.


Three Years Later

It storms. A fierce tropical storm out at sea that will not hit any landmass but sends sheets of ice-cold rain down towards the sea. Thunder rumbles through the distance, low and mighty through the rough, churning sea.

The chopper flies across the ocean, through walls of ice-cold sleet. Rain buffets the roof of the helicopter like bullets, but the man sitting in the back seat does not flinch. He wears a suit for the occasion, and a trenchcoat for the rain. Half of his head is covered by a fedora, yet his eyes catch light from under the brim.

One of the helicopter pilots turns back in his seat to face the man. A red “R” is emblazoned upon his pilot’s helmet.

“Sir, we’re approaching our destination.”

“Duly noted,” says Giovanni. He says nothing else.

The helicopter comes to a swift landing at the bank of a vast cliff. The rolling grass fields wildly flurry every which way from the wind. Giovanni confidently strides across, keeping hold of his coat as he walks towards a large, chrome spire in the distance.

The doors slide open with a hydraulic hiss for Giovanni as he walks in. A barrage of rain and wind is sealed outside when they close.

“Mr. Boss, sir!” The two scientists at the door immediately straighten up and give him the salute of Team Rocket: One fist against their heart. Giovanni silently acknowledges the salute and strides further into the building.

Soon, a frazzled-looking man wearing a lab coat scurries out to meet him. He sports long, wavy hear, a goatee, and looks like he’s been existing purely on coffee for the last twelve days.

“Mr. Giovanni, sir,” he acknowledges, bowing his head in respect, but he doesn’t salute. “Y-you didn’t have to come all this way. There’s a storm out, you know?” laughing nervously, he gestures to one of the windows, where the furious rain can be seen but barely heard.

“I’ve come to check up on my investment,” says Giovanni. “I have been told you’ve been running frequent tests here. Allow me to sit in on a few.”

That’s enough to make the man look more than a little nervous. But he nods, and waves Giovanni after him. “This way, please.

“Now, keep in mind, all those frequent tests we’ve been running…”

The man leads Giovanni into a large chamber, where last-minute preparations are being performed on a complex, white machine as tall as two stories. “They’re not exactly indicative of success. M-more the opposite. We’ve been attempting the process with several strand types of DNA, and with each test the available pool of eligibility for a successful experiment narrows and narrows. Luckily! Luckily, we are about to perform the final one of these tests right now…”

They walk up metal scaffolding stairs into a compartment with a large glass window and an overhead view of the experiment.

“Sit right here,” the man says, pointing Giovanni to a cushioned spectator’s seat, and then hands him a pair of sunglasses. “You’ll want these.”

Wordlessly, Giovanni sits, putting the sunglasses on. He’s expecting to be impressed.

The man dons his own pair of sunglasses, then walks up to the front of the glass compartment and speaks into an earpiece: “Are we ready?”

“All systems are online, sir,” comes the response.

The man nods, then switches on a microphone wired into the floor. His voice blasts out into an intercom down below.

“Prepare to commence experiment number 0034 in T-minus 30 seconds and counting.” The man straightens up, and suddenly it’s like he’s a whole new person. He pulls out a silver, slightly rusted pocketwatch, and keeps the time with it. When the seconds count down to ten, he begins to count down with them.

“10. 9. 8. 7. 6…” The countdown blares out into the room below.

The machine begins to stir, filling the room with a deafening whir. Countless transparent wires and tubes all around the room suddenly shine with pure white energy, all converging into the glass tank in the middle. The room Giovanni is sitting in begins to tremble, and so does the building around them.

The light suddenly becomes too bright for either of them to look at. Giovanni is forced to shield his eyes, even through the sunglasses.

When it fades, the machine has stirred down, and the whirring fades out. The glass chamber is empty, except for a single bulbasaur that lies in the tank. Unmoving. It is immediately swarmed by scientists, who hook it up to wires andcheck its vitals and brainwaves.

“Status?” the man askes into the microphone.

“Perfectly healthy,” a voice responds back. “Just like all the others.”

“Brainwaves?” the man presses. The response comes back, more hesitant.

“Vitals and nothing else, sir. Just like all the others.”

The man sighs, gazing intently at the glass. Giovanni surveys the scene. An expression of interest has broken his normally cold face.

“What do you need?”

The man looks back. Giovanni gets up from his seat, and walks over until he is right next to the man. “What do you need to make it work?”

The question is frivolous; whatever Doctor Fuji needs, it’s a drop in the bucket. The payoff will be worth ten times the amount of money sunk into this project anyway. The successful harnessing of Infinity Energy he has witnessed today has proven that.

Doctor Fuji sighs, his hand around his chin and goatee. He utters his next words carefully:

“This experiment showed us that we can replicate a body from scratch, but not a consciousness. I could do what you originally asked of me, but…”

“What do you need.”

Dr. Fuji stares at the window for a bit, then turns to Giovanni. He can only bear to face Giovanni’s boots.

“In order to create that, I will need a strand of DNA from a legendary pokemon. It’s the only thing capable of sustaining that much infinity energy.”


Fuji looks up in genuine surprise, but there is nothing but formality on Giovanni’s face.

“Y-you can get me a strand of DNA from a legendary pokemon?” he asks incredulously, some of his former stutter coming back into his voice.

“The next time I visit this island, I will have your DNA supplied for you,” Giovanni says. “I am impressed with what I am seeing, Doctor Fuji. Continue impressing me.”

Like businessmen, they shake hands. The gesture is cold and means nothing.

“H-have a safe trip back,” Fuji offers in a halfhearted attempt to end on a warmer note, but Giovanni is already walking away.

Music of the Week!

A Resurrected Man -- Tom Holkenborg
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